Innocence Maligned
by Domiitraya
Summary: Lament of Innocence: Concerning the events surrounding the young nobleman Joachim Armster both before and during the course of the game. Chapter 10 up. Reviews and Comments are always welcome. Thank You.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I do not own Castlevania, nor any of its characters, those are the rightful property of Konami, so please don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway. Any character not in the original game **does** belong to me. Enjoy!

_**Prologue**_

_It is dismal and without hope here. There are no companions to be found save the occasional rat, or the conversation of the perpetually trickling moisture which pools in niches on the walls. My memories have kept me sane, my dreams have freed me from this hell, and the sound of my own voice is the only thing which keeps the gibbering madness at bay._

_I was the only son and heir to a wealthy family. The Armsters of the Holy Roman Empire were an old and distinguished line. Five of my ancestors had joined their talents and strength to carve out a place for the family in the long annals of the aristocracy. While we were not as wealthy nor as powerful as they, we still had our pride, and our place in the court among our peers. We did not want for creature comforts or necessities, either. There were only two of us left, my father and I. I never knew my mother, she passed out of this world whilst bringing me into it. The stigma of her death was to haunt me, marring me irrevocably in my father's eyes. Though he had not particularly loved Mother, he was desperate for an heir. He was an old man when I was a youngster, and many whispered that it was a miracle I had been begotten. Some were so surprised as to speculate that I was a cuckoo, gotten on the wrong side of the blanket, and that Mother had perished for committing the sin of adultery._

_Perhaps this is indeed the truth, if the gossip of servants is to be believed. My father was a rather cold man, it is difficult to envision him treating anyone with kindness. I cannot imagine him smiling in joy. In my memories he only smiled to mock or insult. The smile of my father was lethal, never bestowing the feelings a smile is meant to convey. He hated me in particular. From the start, I have always been sickly, pale and anemic. I did not take my first steps until I was nearing two winters, and it was another three before I began to speak. Father viewed me as an embarrassment and a disappointment. I was kept locked in a sickroom for the majority of my childhood and early adult years. He could not bear to look at me, for I was the undeniable reminder of his failed duty to his bloodline._

_Doctors from Rome, Berlin and Paris were sent for in the hopes that I could be cured of my ailments. But, always after they had carefully repacked their instruments into their bags, they would shake their heads. "I am sorry, but his illnesses are incurable. Perhaps if we knew more about the nature of his affliction we could proscribe a medication or treatment. As it stands, he will be lucky to see the next autumn."_

_When it seemed that the Armster lineage would end with my impending death, Father flew into a rage: against God, himself, Mother… and I._

**Chapter I**

"Worthless!" Karl Armster screamed, his already haggard face turning crimson from his anger. A vein pulsed fitfully on his temple. When he raised his fist, the young man before him cowered fearfully. Heart pounding erratically in his fragile chest, Joachim Armster raised his thin arms in desperation to stop the blow. It came anyway, like the Khamsin storms brutally casting aside Holy Crusaders, the elder Armster's blow swept aside his son's arms and connected soundly with his left temple.

Joachim's teeth clacked together as he lost both his grip on his cane and his balance. He hit the floor so hard that the breath was forced painfully from his lungs. His eyes drifted shut, and for a moment he focused on the soft sounds of birdsong and the serfs calling out to each other in the fields. He groaned, dazed, and wished that he were naught but a serf, surely they were not beaten as much as he was! As Joachim lay gasping on the floor, his father towered over him, waiting for him to regain enough equilibrium so that he could hear the next barrage of insults. Joachim idly noticed that his father's spurs were blooded, and he momentarily sympathized with the horse unfortunate enough to attract the Baron's ire.

"Worthless boy." Karl rasped as Joachim struggled to his knees, folding his weak legs beneath him. "Damned wretch! I've long since wished you had followed your mother…well, soon enough." A cold light resided in Karl Armster's eyes as he cruelly gripped his son by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "The King, politically inept as he is, will be assembling the oldest of Germany's families at a fete in two weeks time. I have already taken the liberty of reserving a place for us." He chuckled, but the source of his amusement escaped his son's understanding. "Just think on it Joachim, a father-son holiday. And while we're enjoying the Lord's hospitality, you'll be aiding me in finding a suitable, fecund young lady."

The Baron grasped Joachim's jaw and pulled him close as his son gasped, "You, surely you don't mean to wed, Father?" The reek of brandy on Karl's breath was making his stomach churn. "Of course not. What foolishness! Truly, you are an imbecile!" Baron Armster snarled, then, shaking his son cruelly, he growled, "I'm expecting a grandson from you, boy. Whether you die or live means nothing to me, but this family…the Armster name will live on." Twisting the fingers of one meaty hand into Joachim's hair, Karl directed his gaze to the accoutrements filling his private chambers. Each piece of furniture, from his bed to the footstool sitting before the fireplace, sported the unmistakable signs of luxury in every decorative carve and whorl. Fine rugs lined the stone floor, rich in color and texture. They provided an aesthetic contrast to the painstakingly detailed tapestries hanging from the walls. As a child, Joachim had sat for hours in front of those same tapestries, imagining himself as a brave knight out to hunt, or a hero, casting out demons with a blessed sword. Bookshelves stacked with volume after leather bound volume were yet another testament to a boy's desperate wish for escape, any escape, even one into his own mind.

Joachim had retreated into the center of himself, lost for a moment in the memories of a foiled and painful childhood. His father's voice abruptly pulled him back to the present. "Our ancestors fought far too hard for what you see around you today, and I won't stand to see such a great family brought down by a worthless weakling such as you!" His tirade finished, the old man released his son and promptly left the sickroom, slamming the door shut in his wake. Joachim stared, trembling, at the door before retrieving his cane and hobbling carefully into the washroom. He stood still for a moment, bracing himself against the table's edge with his still shaking hands. His shoulders shook and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the table. Unable to quell his misery, he hung his head and sobbed in helplessness and frustration. The sounds of his sharp cries reverberated from the walls, and he ceased suddenly, dashing the tears from his face, ashamed of his weakness and hating his father all the more for it.

His nose had begun bleeding during his father's abuse, and he noted that his newest blue jacket sported several new stains and rips. He tore it off angrily, even this simple task exhausting him. Panting harshly, he stopped his nose and examined his temple in the small mirror sitting atop his wash table. The left side of his face had already begun to swell, and a dark purple bruise which covered his face from eye socket to ear glared back at him. Joachim groaned as he carefully combed and arranged his hair to hide the ugly evidence of his father's hatred. _I look like a fruit which has fallen off the farmer's cart_. He thought ruefully.

He sighed and carefully removed the rest of his sullied clothes, casting them into the hamper for the servants to pick up later. The imprints of Baron Armster's fingers marred his shoulders, and his chest sported several bruises from its contact with the unforgiving stone floor. "And damn again." he murmured, consigned to regular brutality. He turned this way and that, searching for new bruises… ahh, there on his hip, he'd walked into the table this morning, oh, and here, on his leg, he'd tripped on his way back up the stairs after luncheon had been served.

There was yet another on his arm, behind the elbow, he wasn't too certain where he had gotten it. "I probably fluffed the pillows too forcefully," he spat, disgusted. Joachim tenderly removed the padding from his nostrils and probed the sides of his nose, checking for more blood. Taking up the ceramic ewer which had once belonged to his mother, he carefully poured water into the washbowl, sopping a cloth until his fingers numbed from the cold water. He washed the blood from his face and pushed the cloth against the bruise, the cold blissfully numbing the ache.

Casting one last look at his exposed form, he choked, "Dying be damned, I already look as though I am dead! I pity the woman consigned to wed with me. How can I give her a life when my own is to expire so soon? And as for children..." The fingers of one hand absently traced his visible ribs, counting them as he took in his spare figure. The thin legs and slender arms, the painfully protruding hipbones and collarbones. Even his face showed prominent structure, and his eyes gazed woefully from their bruised sockets. Joachim Armster resembled the figure of a broken angel, cast from the heavens. A shade of what could have been, had circumstances been kinder. A bitter smile pulled his pale lips back into a rictus. "What woman would ever desire to touch this?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Joachim's remaining two weeks crept by slowly. Every time the sun climbed over the horizon and peered through the curtains and slats of his window, the young nobleman would groan unhappily and pull the eiderdown covers over his face in groggy defiance. Approximately ten minutes after sunrise, just as he was once again slipping into slumber, one of the kitchen workers would abruptly barge into his room, arms laden with a weighty pewter tray which held more food than Joachim could manage to eat over the course of the entire day. Of late it had been the same kitchen maid every morning. Much to his surprise, Norgard did not seem to be repulsed or intimidated by either his appearance or his eccentric mannerisms.

The first time she had served breakfast, she had stood by for a few moments in silence, waiting for Joachim to clamber out from beneath his blankets and into a robe. She piped up cheerfully as he was knotting the cord at his waist. "There was no bickering as to who had to bring your breakfast up this morn, so it's still hot! Your porridge isn't even lumpy yet, see?" Joachim had gone quite still as she had spoken, and he watched in a kind of confused fascination as she took up a spoon and stirred the hot confection. By the time she was lifting up spoonfuls of mash and then dumping them back into the bowl with quirky "plopping" sounds, a smile had begun to creep uninvited over his features. "Ooh and the bread is so soft on the inside, and crunchy outside! It's still warm enough so's you can melt the butter on it, and the bacon has a lovely crisp!" She said the last bit enthusiastically, and Joachim shook his head slowly in bemusement, "I never eat bacon." he told her. Norgard regarded him knowingly with one mischievous green eye. And don't I know that." She grinned and scooped the platter from the tray. "That's why this last little bit is for me!"

With one strip clenched between her teeth, she drew back the curtains and set his place at the small oak table in front of the window. Still perplexed by her forthright and unabashed manner, Joachim took his cane from its bedside holder and shuffled over to his wardrobe. He selected a simple outfit, consisting of a gray tunic and matching pants, and soft brown house shoes. As he passed Norgard, she was busily fussing with the embers in the fireplace. "Ah, blighted…someone's let it go out completely!" She tossed the poker aside in disgust and threw open the door to his chambers, bellowing as she did so, "Franz! You lazy pig herder's get! Who let the young master's fire go out? Get your idle tail in here and stoke it back up! It isn't the place of a woman to lift such heavy kindling…" she muttered the last to herself, wringing her hands in her brown skirts and sighing, her gaze fixated on the heavens. Not waiting to hear Franz's excuses or Norgard's yelling, Joachim hurriedly escaped into his washroom to perform his morning ablutions and slip into his clothes. He could vaguely hear the sound of an abashed young male voice, then the thunk of heavy logs being settled in the fireplace.

A cheerful fire was burning by the time he had finished with his fastidious morning ritual, and Norgard was waiting for him at the table. A breeze was up, and the scent of fresh spring air mingled pleasantly with the smell of breakfast. Joachim inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling of fresh air filling his lungs. The kitchen maid gestured enthusiastically for him to take the seat in front of her. Her eyes sparkled with impatience, and her cupid's bow lips were tilted upwards in a friendly smile.

Joachim took his seat with care, easing his thin form onto the cushion slowly. When he was settled comfortably he laid his cane across his lap and downed a chalice of milk. As he set the cup back on the table, he regarded his new acquaintance with serious lavender eyes. "Should you not be hurrying back to the kitchens? The others are always hurried in the morning, complaining of the cook's tyranny and mountains of chores." He said the last with a slight grin, and wiped his lips with a napkin.

Norgard shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward, her blonde tresses bouncing merrily in time with her movements. "I'm sure it must be terrible for them, yes?" She reached for an egg, then caught herself, remembering whom she was breaking her fast with. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?" she asked apologetically.

"Not at all, eat your fill." he told her with a shrug. She smiled at him, and her round cheeks dimpled. Joachim was not a particularly shy person by nature, in spite of his secluded life. Any contact with someone other than his father was always welcomed by the young man, who would most likely have been a social person if his circumstances were different and his health not so frail.

The friendliness Norgard was exhibiting warmed his heart, for most of the manor's staff either ignored him completely, or shied away uneasily. He was not certain whether they were put off by him, or by the threat of his irascible father's rage. Whatever the case, Joachim was a gentle soul, and he never spoke up about his treatment, for he knew that his father would not hesitate to have the 'impudent serfs' beaten, or have them thrown out of the Armster lands completely. He did not think that he could forgive himself for causing such trouble, since there were few opportunities for displaced servants in the region. Those who could not find work or a lord to employ them inevitably starved.

He closed his eyes and shook his head to dispel those gloomy thoughts, and when he looked at Norgard again, she deftly cracked her egg and peeled back the shell, never once taking her eyes off his face. Joachim, unaccustomed to such careful scrutiny, made a great show of eating his porridge. "Well," he said between bites and swallows of milk, "This is certainly new. I do not think that I have ever had a lengthy conversation with someone who was neither my father nor a physician." He had meant to jest, but his tone was bitter, and it twisted the meaning of his words.

Norgard had been steadily focused on her egg, but upon hearing these words, she looked at him more closely, studying his face. This time, Joachim was less unnerved by her regard. "You seem friendly enough, young lord. Don't the other servants speak with you while they're going about their chores?" Joachim waved a slender hand, dismissing the title of lord while shaking his head. "Chores? Usually my food is brought in and deposited on the table. The person responsible for leaving it is gone before I am fully awake."

This revelation seemed to unsettle the cheery maid, and an irritated look passed over her features before she schooled her expression into complacence. "Well now, someone has not been seeing their duties to the end." She said this quietly, but there was a hint of anger in her voice, and she chewed her egg with frustrated vigor. As she swallowed and drew breath, Joachim anticipated the question she was ready to ask and he replied to her unspoken query. "It's all right." He shrugged and propped his chin on the heel of his palm. "I would rather not force someone who was uncomfortable with me to spend the space of an entire morning in my company. Besides, it's best that they are out of the way if my father should storm in during one of his more violent moods."

Joachim detected a flicker of unease in the maid's eyes. She dropped her gaze to her lap, and her fingers twisted nervously in the folds of her brown skirts. "The Baron, he's… not above striking those of us who displeases him." she whispered. Biting at her lower lip, she reached for her napkin, and Joachim, overcome with sympathy for another who had endured the Baron's wrath, reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. The contrast between the warm peach tones of her hand and the sickly ivory of his own was striking, and he was reminded of his own mortality and the short length of time allotted to him. _Just as the pagan god falls during the bountiful autumn harvest, so too shall I die._ As he pushed those morbid thoughts back, he looked once more at his acquaintance's honest face. "The Baron is not above striking me either." Joachim told her gently. Norgard cleared her throat nervously, and the connection was broken.

Ashamed of his forthright manner, Joachim released her hand with a sigh and closed his eyes. _What am I thinking? She's an unmarried young woman, and a servant! I have no right to place the weight of my sorrows upon her shoulders. Being in the service of Karl Armster is more than enough heartache for any of these people! Still, it is lonely here, and I have enjoyed this morning, which is not something I could say of any other morning. _"I am sorry, Norgard," he said, eyes still closed. His lashes threw small dark shadows over his face. "I've no right to trouble you with my grief, and you no doubt have much that requires tending to."

"Yes, sir. I do, and I'd best be about my business now." Norgard wiped her mouth on the napkin before tossing the remnants of their meal onto the tray. She rose from her seat, shook out her skirts and began to bustle about, tidying up small things and dusting off the furniture. Joachim stood slowly and stretched before walking over to one of his bookcases. Though he passed by Norgard on his way, she pointedly avoided looking at him as she steadfastedly changed the bed linens. Perplexed by her suddenly distant manner, he thought it best to let the matter rest.

As he ran one tapered finger down the spine of an old and beloved title, Joachim smiled. The memory evoked by the sight of the book was bittersweet, and he was filled with a sense of nostalgia. He pulled the book from its resting place and carried it with him to the window seat, his favored reading spot. Joachim cared for his books more diligently than a new mother tends to her infant child, and such love was evident as he settled down, placed his cane within easy reach, and tenderly opened the cover to the title page. The words _Heathen Superstition _were embossed in red. Even though the book was a prime example of Church propaganda, Joachim had been a young boy the first time he had leafed through its pages, and since he had not understood the scholarly theological arguments, he had skipped over them. What interested him most were the multitude of folk tales and ancient legends. This particular volume was illuminated, and gold framed page after page of carefully transcribed text. Joachim brought the book close to his face, and breathed in the unique scent of cured parchment as his intelligent eyes took in the wealth of information contained in each page.

This was how Norgard left him that morning. She moved quietly, careful not to draw him out of his reverie, envying him his literacy, and realizing at the same time that even had she known how to read, books were far too expensive for a kitchen maid such as herself to afford. A part of her was also glad that he had some form of escape from his imprisonment, not just his restriction to this part of the manor, but also his circumstances: cruel father and even crueler illness.

As she opened the door, tray and linen hamper balanced on her hip, she turned to look at him again. He sat perfectly still, the only movement was that of his eyes as they scanned the book before him. A look of childish wonder transformed his normally bitter expression into something that was almost saintly or God-touched. Norgard smiled sadly before she quietly closed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

The day that Joachim and his father were scheduled to depart for the King's fete dawned amid much frantic activity as the household staff hurried about in a rush to check that all necessary provisions, clothing, necessities, and small tributes were securely and properly packed and loaded onto the Baron's carriage. Karl Armster oversaw the preparations from his perch upon his newly broken horse. The animal was nervous and intimidated by the flood of people yelling and moving about so close to it, but the horse remembered the goads that had lashed its sides, and it feared the man on its back more than anything else, so it stood stiffly, fine tremors running through its tense muscles.

Two hapless young boys dropped a chest containing a part of the Baron's tribute. Small bottles of rare and expensive spices rolled through the dust of the courtyard while the Baron roared in anger. Face flushed, he leapt from his mount and cuffed the two soundly, berating them for their mistake. The other servants said nothing, and they kept their eyes averted. Everyone present seemed suddenly preoccupied with their current tasks. When one of the boys began to cry piteously, Karl Armster boxed his ears in admonishment, screaming at him the entire time.

Joachim observed the entire scenario from his position behind a tree. After Norgard had brought breakfast to his quarters the two of them had snuck unnoticed through the scullery. There were so many last minute tasks that needed to be done for the Baron's departure that the kitchen had been nearly deserted; only a few hearth boys were present. Since they were too small to be of any use in loading the carriage, the boys were about their usual task of keeping the kitchen hearth fires burning. One of them had looked up at Joachim in awe before Norgard pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh!" The little boy covered his mouth and smiled gleefully. "My brother." she explained once they were outside.

"He's terrified unto death of the Baron, so he won't say nothing." Norgard reassured him. Joachim took in his surroundings, still unable to believe that he was outside, that he had disobeyed his father by not waiting in his room for the Baron's summons. The kitchen garden was bursting with greenery; tiny plants still dripping with dew peeked up from the rich dark soil and the scent of herbs and fresh life was invigorating. Some of the fruit bearing shrubs had begun to blossom, and the local bee population droned lazily in contentment. The sky was cloudless and Joachim had to shield his sensitive eyes with one hand in order to see where he was going. The pair made their way to the garden wall, whereupon Norgard unbarred the door and led him outside.

"I still cannot believe that I am doing this." Joachim muttered. He had to stop several times in order to catch his breath, and his chest was beginning to ache from the exertion. The kitchen maid was ruthless. "We have to hurry! If your father or anyone else catches sight of us it's all over!" She wrapped his arm about her shoulders and supported his weight as they made it around the corner of the manor. The din from the courtyard grew louder, and Norgard cursed. "Now how are we to slip past all of them?" The nobleman leaned against a tree for a moment before he heard his father roaring angrily.

"Ah! Unlucky for them, but perfect timing for us!" Norgard crowed as she threw her brown cloak over Joachim and led him across the courtyard at a run. In truth, she was carrying the young man, whose heart had quite given out. Joachim clung to his friend and was literally dragged across the open ground. Karl Armster was preoccupied and she meant to make the most of it. "That's just luck, that is!" Norgard panted as she shifted her hold and gripped his shoulder more tightly. As the two burst through a flock of chickens they cackled in agitation and shook their wings, kicking up dust in their eagerness to be away from these strange creatures.

By the time they reached the cemetery behind the parish chapel, Norgard was flushed and grinning from the excitement, and Joachim was paler than usual. She settled him on a gravestone and laughed at his expression. "Right, I'll be 'round here keeping an eye open for unwanted company." She trounced off, the sun catching at her hair and transforming it into a golden nimbus.

Joachim remained seated for a few minutes as he tried to slow his breathing. His heart was still racing nervously, and his white doublet twitched with every beat. He regarded his chest morosely and stretched his sore legs. Joachim reminded himself to thank Norgard later, because he knew that he could not have made this excursion on his own. He staggered as he rose to his feet, and he stood shakily for a moment before tightening his fingers around his cane and purposefully setting off for his goal.

The newer gravesites were furthest from the chapel, so he braced himself for the long walk. As he meandered through the haphazard rows of headstones, he allowed himself a brief pause at each stone which signified the resting place of one of his ancestors. He felt a prickling on his skin as his fingers made contact with the cool surface of the markers. His heritage was here, as were the great Armsters his father was so proud of. Joachim drew in a shaky breath.

_When I am gone, dead and buried, will there be a descendant who will come to my grave? Will they stop at my headstone and remember me, and if they do, what will they think? How will they remember me? The weakling? The disappointment who left nothing but an heir? Or will they think "Ah, he was kind. Fate dealt him a cruel hand, but he still fulfilled his duty." Will I be revered for such a thing?_ Visibly shaken, Joachim was breathing harshly, eyes wide and dilated in panic. Perspiration trickled between his shoulder blades and he shivered uneasily. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and tightened his grip on his cane. He was weeping now, and his sobs drifted in the wind, which moaned softly in sympathy. "_Oh, God! I…I don't want to die!_" Joachim screamed harshly and cast himself down to the earth in his desperation to touch something which was real and permanent. He grasped at his head, alternately pulling at his hair and burying his face in his thin hands. All the long while his screams, shouts and pleas were caught up in the wind. Finally, Joachim snatched up his cane and used the nearest grave marker to pull himself to his feet. He left wet tear stains on the stone, which he dabbed at absently with his sleeve. His face was red and swollen, and his eyes, nose and throat burned. As he walked on, he was unable to control the pitiful whimpering sounds deep in his throat, and he rested his heated forehead on his palm.

The chapel had been built next to a wooded area, and he soon found himself stumbling through bracken and tree branches which grasped at his jacket and hair like greedy fingers. An unnoticed root sent him sprawling, and he howled in anger and pain. He struck out at the root with his cane, much as a small child lashes out in the midst of a tantrum. He was noticeably weaker when he pulled himself once more to his feet. The front of his body felt like one dull ache, and his legs burned from the exertion. He scanned each stone in desperation. _When I find her, then I shall rest, though I feel as if I can go no further!_

At last, when Joachim was ready to turn his back and relinquish all hope; he found it. His cane slipped from numb fingers and clattered unnoticed against a stone. Joachim stumbled forward with his hands outstretched, and fresh tears blurred his vision as he beheld the site of his mother's final slumber. She had been buried in a glade, and the overarching boughs of oaks and rowans seemed poised to protect her. A weeping willow cast its mantle over the grave like a shroud, and Joachim touched its trailing branches with reverence as he fell to his knees before her. "Oh…Mother. Mother, I'm here." he stroked his fingers over the engraving lovingly as he read her eulogy:

_Here Rests Anna Kathryn Armster_

_Beloved Wife_

_Loving Mother_

_God Keep Thee_

_God Keep Thy Son_

_1006 - 1026_

"My age. She was my age." Joachim groaned as he stretched out by her grave, resting one palm on the grass where his mother's face would be. "Mother, why did you leave me?" he sighed. He was completely drained by the morning's events, and his body was bruised and aching from its numerous falls. Though he grieved deeply, Anna's son felt that he had no more tears. His hand was warm where it lay, and he turned his face, resting his cheek against the cool, damp earth. The soft sounds of birdsong and the unconcerned hum of insects lulled him into sleep. As he closed his eyes, he heard a gentle lullaby and felt a soft hand lovingly caress his face. _Only the wind, only the wind._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Joachim was awakened by cool drops of rain, which fell playfully onto his upturned face. He came awake slowly, and groggily wiped the dampness away with his sleeve. For a moment he did not know where he was, he only knew that he had never felt so relaxed and at ease as he did in that moment. As his senses returned, so too did his memories of the morning, and he sat upright with a sharp gasp, his heart jumping painfully as he looked about frantically for his cane.

"You're awake," he heard Norgard remark. She sat cross-legged on the damp earth, her brown skirts spread neatly about her. Her expression was stone like, fixed into one of sorrow. As he watched in confusion and wonder, she reached out with one hand and cupped a willow tendril in her palm. Before his shocked eyes, Joachim witnessed as the plant wrapped itself lovingly around her fingers. "How?" he breathed, mouth agape.

Norgard slowly turned her head to look at him. "You'll be wanting answers. How did I know to bring you here, how did I know how much you wanted to see your mother's resting place before you left?" She smiled slowly, and her eyes were as green as the beckoning foliage of the deep forest. "I could hear her, Joachim. When the dead don't lie restful, I can hear their cries. She wanted to see you every bit as much as you wanted to visit her."

"But Norgard, how is it that this is even possible?" Joachim asked her. The rational part of his mind was frantically attempting to reject the sight of the willow embracing his friend's hand, but another part of him, the uncompromising child, exulted. Norgard seemed to sense this, and she favored him with a true smile, one which lit her face with an inner radiance. "Those who have left this life are bound to the earth, and long have I, and the women of my family been in harmony with this land." She laughed openly as Joachim stared at her as though she were a mystical beast which had jumped from the pages of one of his beloved stories. "Don't you worry none about it! We've a little bit extra that the good Fathers wouldn't like to be hearing about is all!" She winked and turned to whisper to the tree in a language which sounded like the rustling of leaves in a breeze. Norgard kissed one trembling leaf as the tree slowly unwound from her fingers.

Joachim shook his silvered head and sighed, accepting the strangeness of his situation. It was then that he felt a warmth in the hand which had rested against his mother's grave mound. When he lifted his hand from the grass, he saw two small blue shapes. Curious, he carefully scooped them up and examined them. "Norgard? Do you have any idea as to where these earrings came from?" Now it was she who appeared confused. "Show me." she said, moving closer to him and shaking the dewdrops and leaves from her skirts.

"They're warm," Joachim emphasized, "and I've never seen them before. They would appear to be sapphire, though, from the hue." Norgard crouched next to him and extended her hand. He placed the earrings in her palm, which she brought close to her face. Her nose scrunched slightly before her eyes widened and she whistled appreciatively. "Your mother sends you her love, my friend." Norgard told Joachim solemnly. She cupped his hand in her own before setting the tokens upon his palm and folding his fingers over them. Joachim swallowed past the uncomfortable knot in his throat as she squeezed his hand and looked directly into his eyes.

"Well now, your father is going to be making short work of the both of us if we don't make like flushed hares back to where we came from!" she declared imperiously, and Joachim grinned, for this was the Norgard he had come to know so well. She located his cane and helped him to gain his feet. No sooner had Joachim steadied himself before Norgard had moved to stand directly in front of him. She turned her back to him and brought his arms around her neck. "What are you about?" Joachim yelped, seconds before she grasped his legs and hefted him onto her back. "Never had a piggyback ride?" she teased before she set off at a run. Joachim clung to her for dear life before turning his head to cast a final look at Anna's grave. _Farewell, mother._

They made it back to Joachim's chambers with no difficulties, since Norgard was familiar with all of the servants' unobtrusive stairwells and hallways. She had carried the lordling nearly the entire way, and her rosy face was more flushed than usual. The maid collapsed into a chair and fanned herself dramatically. "Ah me! This is what happens when the boys are too lazy to do the heavy work, and it's all left to the womenfolk! We shouldn't have to be so strong…" she muttered breathlessly.

"I must say that I am glad you are!" Joachim told her from his sprawled out position on the bed. He lay still for a moment as he waited for his heart to slow from its frenzied pace, and his face wore an expression of deep thought. "Norgard," he said seriously, "thank you. You have been a true friend, and I could not have managed any of this without you." She looked over at him briefly before waving one hand lazily through the air. "Glad to do it. Now," she clapped her hands and rose to her feet, "About those earrings." As she moved towards the bed, she produced a needle from her collar. Joachim regarded the bit of metal warily. "And what do you propose to do with that?" he queried defensively.

Norgard smiled brightly. "You're wanting to wear them, I've no doubt." Joachim rolled his eyes and took the still warm jewelry from his pocket. "Make it quick," he gritted from between clenched teeth, "I have no use for unnecessary pain." She nodded in sympathy and efficiently pierced each of his ears with her needle before slipping the sapphires through the tiny pinpricks. "Now, don't go taking them out, else the spot will heal shut, and we'll be having to do this all over again." she cautioned. Joachim touched each ear gingerly and shook his head from side to side. The earrings swung gently with his movements, and he smiled, for he would be carrying his mother close, no matter where he was.

He carefully slid off the bed, and impulsively enveloped Norgard in an embrace. Her tresses were soft and emitted the faint scent of apples. Joachim inhaled deeply, wanting to remember her, to keep this memory after he had departed. The futility of their predicament would not leave his mind, but when he felt her arms surround him, his anxieties eased. Neither spoke a word, and they remained together in this way for several long moments. The courtyard was peacefully silent, and the spring songbirds gave voice to their joy in sweet, lilting melodies.

_Oh, God. Is it possible for life to be any more cruel than this? To show me a glimmer of true happiness, only to snatch it from my grasp immediately? To find the one person for whom I was created, only to lose her so soon? No, I… I never had a chance, did I? I am a noble, and she is a servant. I grow so weary of this! Why should the circumstances of birth matter at all? Though I have not known her long, I feel as though I have known her for years. Her smile, her eyes, her movements and voice, all so familiar and dear. I will treasure our time together. If this finite moment, this brief embrace, is all the joy that I shall ever receive, then I will cherish it for the rest of my days._

Joachim pulled back and regarded Norgard somberly. When she looked up at him, there were tears on her face, and her emerald eyes were filled with love. She said not a word, but cupped his face in her warm palm. It was not smooth, as a noblewoman's palm would have been, but her touch swamped Joachim with emotion, and he covered her hand with his own before reaching out to cradle her face just as she had cradled his. Norgard drew breath to speak. "Joachim, I…" she paused, and he kissed her. It was that rarest of kisses, the first kiss of a new love which is also a true and destined love. If either of them were to endure life for eons, neither would ever forget the feeling evoked by that one simple contact. Both realized their feelings for what they truly were, and both wept for what they feared they would lose. But for that single moment, it was enough.

When their lips parted, it was with great reluctance. Joachim refused to release his beloved, and he rested his face against her hair as he fought a hopeless battle against his emotions. It was she who finally pulled away, though she did so slowly and stood facing him, her hands clasped against her chest, unshed tears aglimmer in her eyes. He stood like a statue, with his arms still extended to catch her. There was a look of torment on his features, and he trembled violently.

It was Norgard who shattered the silence. "We will remember," she said in the same tone that she had used in the glade, "and in remembering, our souls shall never part." She closed her eyes and stood still for a moment. When she looked at Joachim once more, there was a smile on her face. "We've not known each other but two very short weeks, Joachim, but look at us…" she shook her tawny head, still smiling. "You've probably been taught that love is a rarity, or a myth, and that the likelihood of two people finding a true love, especially under such hurried circumstances, is naught but wishful hoping. But I have seen things, Joachim, as were far stranger than ourselves. Maybe it isn't so odd, wise ones have said that when two souls who were destined to meet finally crossed the other's path, they'd, well… they'd know for sure. And it don't ever happen by chance, Joachim. Nothing in this life does."

Joachim had stood by silently, his arms now clasped about his frail chest, desperate to hold in the warmth she had left behind. He would not look at her, and a fierce pounding had settled within his head. He believed her, believed in her, and in what they shared. But the knowledge of their imminent parting was slowly eating away at him. Joachim was, for the first time in his life, experiencing the pangs of a heartache brought about by love. He was not as strong as his beloved Norgard, and since he had never before felt the joy of mutual love, he was loath to relinquish it now that his desperately questing spirit had been touched by its warmth. He wanted, needed, to be strong for her, but he was unsure of where to begin.

Incensed by his lack of courage and fortitude, Joachim cast aside his misery and stood straight. If he could not feel strong, he would at least play the part, and do it well. _I owe her this, and so much more! But it is my wish that we are as equals. She does not love me out of compassionate pity, and to treat her love as such would be an insult. She is right, the men here are idle shirkers who leave the difficult tasks on her shoulders. I know that she is stronger than I, but that does not mean I cannot aspire to be her equal!_

Paying no heed to his complaining legs, Joachim crossed the short distance Norgard had placed between them. He brushed the tears from her face with his thumb while he caught one of her hands and respectfully kissed her knuckles, just as any gentleman would when he met a lady of highborn rank. Norgard blushed at this unspoken compliment, but she sensed the gravity of his feelings and did not tease him. Joachim placed her hand over his heart and met her gaze unflinchingly. He had to swallow several times before he was certain his voice would not fail him. He doubted that he possessed the courage to begin once more should his voice have given way!

"Norgard," he began slowly, "I have lived my whole life in this set of chambers, rarely venturing outside, and never speaking at length with anyone who was not my father or a physician. Before I met you, I had never known friendship. I was unaware of love, unaware that I could feel love, and cynical to the point of denial that anyone could ever love me." He smiled gently and pushed her tresses away from her face. Joachim placed one hand on either side of her face and pressed a chaste kiss between her eyes. "Norgard," he continued, "You have given me so much! You have taught me so many things about myself, and about life, that I would have died without ever knowing." She was weeping now, and he was fast losing control of his own tears. Having never been taught that it was unseemly for a man to weep, Joachim had never learned to mask or quell his emotions.

"I…" Joachim shrugged and grinned. "I love you, Norgard." Upon hearing this revelation, the young woman cried out and flung herself against him. The breath was forced from his lungs as she encircled him with her strong arms and crushed him closer to her. Unbalanced and taken aback, Joachim wrapped his slender arms around his beloved's shoulders and regarded the top of her head with alarm, worry creasing his brows and widening his pale lavender eyes. "What in heaven's name did I say! Whatever is wrong, love?"

Her reply was muffled, but no less fierce for being less audible. "Damn it all! Why do all men have to be so daft? How could you tell a woman you loved her and not expect her to cry?" When she looked up at him, her face was puffy, flushed, and the most adorable sight that Joachim had ever seen. His face twisted briefly as he fought the rising urge to laugh, and when Norgard blinked at him in confusion, the laughter burst from his chest and throat uncontrollably. He could not cease, not even when she glared at him. "You… stupid man! You dare laugh at me, now that I've opened my heart to you? It's a wonder I don't stomp your foot and march out, you puffed up blunder head!"

Joachim's laughter came to an abrupt end as a sharp pain lanced through his chest, stealing both his breath and his strength. _No! Not now! Norgard, I am so sorry… _There was a roaring in his ears, and he heard Norgard cry out in alarm as his knees buckled. He wanted to ease her fears and reassure her, to explain that this had happened to him before. He would black out for a few moments, and then everything would be fine, only, he would need to rest for a short while, that was all.

Norgard supported Joachim's weight when he collapsed. Fear lent fresh strength to her limbs, and she maneuvered him gingerly into a chair. His head lolled to one side, and his face was as stark as a corpse's. Even his lips had lost their color and his breath was so faint that Norgard's heart nearly stopped with the fear that she beheld a lifeless body. She quickly snatched up her skirts and sprinted to his washroom, swiping the mirror from the table. Her hands shook as she held the glass beneath his nose and mouth, and she held her breath until she saw his own create a fog on the mirror's surface.

Norgard gasped a quick prayer of thanks before setting the mirror aside and placing her hand over his heart. Joachim's pulse was faint but steady, a positive sign. She crouched before him and clasped one of his slender hands, chafing his cold skin as she anxiously watched his face. She froze when she heard the first faint whispers. "_Warm, and so **close** to us! Reach out and touch, touch, **touch**_!" The spirits of the dead gathered around the still form of Norgard's beloved, and she hissed in defiance. "You won't have him!" She rose and moved to shield him with her arms, strength, and her fierce desire for life.

Heart pounding, Norgard lifted Joachim into her arms, wincing at how little he weighed as she moved across the bedchamber and into the patch of faint midday sunlight which struggled through the newly gathered clouds and streamed through the window. She leaned against the small table where she had first broken her fast with the young nobleman. The dead moaned in angry disappointment, but they were helpless against Norgard's lively vigor. She was too warm, too full of life for them to touch, and they did not press their offense.

The sun caught the young maid's silhouette, transforming her into a vengeful angel. The moans and whines quickly turned to bloodcurdling screams as Joachim began to stir. The pained cries of a mother grieving for the suffering of her only son were audible amongst the unholy cacophony. Overcome with sorrow, and completely fatigued by the recent assault on her sensitive and untrained mind, Norgard slowly sank to the floor with Joachim in her arms. She did not realize that she had been holding her breath until he hesitantly opened his eyes. Norgard exhaled in a rush and choked down her anguish. "You, what do you mean," she rasped, "by frightening me so?"

Joachim would not look at her face, and his eyes were haunted. The beat of his labored pulse was visible upon the column of his neck, and a sheen of perspiration lay over his ashen face. When he replied, his words were slurred, and his voice was so quiet that Norgard was forced to place her ear against his mouth as he spoke. His dry lips felt like moth's wings as they moved against her flesh. "Dying, dead by autumn… sorry, so sorry… did not want to hurt you…sorry." Joachim's hand rose to stroke her face once, tenderly, before it fell to the floor and he succumbed to exhaustion.

Norgard sat still, unable to accept what she had heard, yet knowing the truth. This, then, was why the dead cried out so eagerly for him. She was lost in her reverie, eyes absently tracing the patterns in the carpet when Baron Armster abruptly threw open the door of his son's chambers. She winced at the crack of oak upon stone, but Joachim did not even open his eyes.

Norgard heard the Baron's sharp intake of breath before he stalked towards them menacingly. "You had best have a damned good explanation for this!" he growled harshly, "Just what in Hell is happening here?" Gathering what little strength and dignity she still retained, Norgard slowly rose from the floor and sank into the chair next to her. Seated there, with her voluminous skirts and long golden hair arrayed about her; the unconscious Joachim still clasped protectively in her embrace, Norgard resembled Michelangelo's masterwork La Pieta, though that image still lay sleeping within marble, not yet unfettered by the artist's hand.

"Milord," Norgard began softly, "your son was about his preparations when he collapsed in a fit. I caught him before he could hurt himself, and I was just readying to call for help when you arrived, milord." Appeased by her meek and subservient demeanor, Karl Armster only grunted in reply before abruptly relieving Norgard of her beloved. She started in a panic, and her hands grasped after his retreating form of their own will before Norgard schooled herself into a semblance of calmness once more. The Baron turned to look at her as he was passing over the threshold. "Be about your work, serf." he stated bluntly, before he departed with his son slung uncaringly over his arms.

Norgard closed her eyes and clasped a work roughened hand over her mouth as she finally relinquished the sorrow she had been withholding. She fisted her other hand in her skirts as she rocked back and forth, the tears streaming hotly over her face and dampening her knuckles. She did not cry out, but instead reduced her sobs to hiccoughing cries, which she muffled with closed lips and fingers. When she opened her eyes, she espied Joachim's cane lying forgotten on the rug. She gasped and dove for it, swiping it up before hurrying out the door and down the corridor. She collided with another member of the manor's staff, who reeled into the wall and cursed her fiercely, but Norgard ignored him and burst through the doorway of the great hall. She gathered her skirts in one hand and slid competently down the banister before flinging open the manor doors and pelting through the courtyard.

The Baron was already astride his mount, and the footman was settling the Baron's son into the coach. Norgard swept the wetness from her eyes and cheeks as she marched up to the footman. "Pardon," she declared boldly, for fear of being ignored, "but the young master forgot his cane, he did." She shouldered past the footman, who regarded her in astonishment, and leapt nimbly into the coach.

Joachim was settled beneath a heavy woolen blanket, and he smiled when he saw her face. "Nearly forgot this, you dolt!" Norgard whispered fiercely, and she pressed the cane into his hand, squeezing his wrist tightly as she did so. He looked dreadful, with his sunken eyes and pallid complexion, and the young maid felt her tears rising once more. He laboriously drew breath to speak, but it was she who continued, hoping to spare him even this small effort. "Listen you, we walk the path we was set on, I love you, I know you love me, and… I'll be waiting for you. No matter what happens, I'll wait. Promise." Norgard leaned forward and kissed him fiercely, and then she was gone, leaving Joachim with nothing but the memory of her fingers and lips on his skin, and the lingering sweetness of apples.

The footman closed the door securely before clambering atop the coach beside the teamster, who cracked his whip and set the horses to moving. As the Baron's procession passed from the courtyard and into the village, the heavens were torn asunder, and a heavy rain fell upon the countryside. A lone figure drew the hood of her cloak forward and stood like a sentinel, watching until the coach and its passenger had passed out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Joachim and Karl Armster arrived at their destination ahead of schedule, which pleased the Baron. For that much, at least, Joachim was grateful. The coach wheels had barely come to a halt when he was abruptly pulled from its sheltering warmth by several liveried attendants who proceeded to escort him to his guest rooms. He barely had the time to take in his surroundings and soon ceased his attempts to memorize the numerous stairways and corridors he passed through on the way to his rooms.

Joachim was less than thrilled when he learned that his father was occupying the chambers adjacent to his own. The old man was in a rare good humor as he ordered the servants to unpack their possessions, but he was still critical of their methods and watched them closely. Joachim was exhausted, and he lay sprawled over an immense overstuffed chair, his cane dangling from his supple fingers. He was not quite recovered from his recent collapse, and had sunk into a sullen depression due to his parting from Norgard.

" I think," he said dryly, "that I shall sleep now." Karl Armster curtly ordered that tailors be sent for immediately, and he waited until the last servant had bowed his way from the room before turning his attentions to his son. "You will rest after being fitted for formal attire."

Joachim did not open his eyes when he replied, "Why should I worry with measurements? Send your tailors a pair of breeches and a shirt and instruct them to be creative. I care not what I should wear." he waved one hand lazily and dropped his cane onto the rug. Karl stood quite still, his hands clenched at his sides, eyes dangerous. "Well, I have a care for how my son is presented before our King and peers," he growled, "and if I say that you're to be fitted for decent attire, it will be done even if I must hold you up by your hair! I could snap your neck right now, boy, for even considering disobeying me in this."

"Ah yes," Joachim yawned, "Family honor and all. Wouldn't want to tarnish our good name, would I?" To his surprise, Karl did not reply, his only response was the slamming of the door. Joachim snorted and shook his head. _He doesn't quite know what to make of this! Yes, I believe I have unsettled the old bear, let him ponder over his son's boldness for a while, perhaps he will be slower to strike one who snaps at his hand! I have no doubt the beatings will stop, after all, he needs me to be as hale and hearty as possible to beget his precious heir._

The tailor and his assistants did arrive, and Joachim submitted to their attentions meekly, allowing himself to be poked and prodded as they measured, took notes, and frowned over his pale complexion. "There aren't too many colors that will show off _that_ pallor, young lord." the tailor warned him. "We'll have to be careful not to make you appear sallow. No greens, oranges, and most certainly not black!" With a motion of his hand, he commanded one of his assistants to produce the fabric bolts. The boy displayed several samples of fabric for Joachim to choose from, and he impulsively selected a bolt of rich blue velvet to match his earrings.

"And what sort of attire were you planning on wearing, young lord?" the tailor questioned. Joachim opened his mouth to reply, but promptly closed it again as he shook his head, a look of embarrassment on his handsome features. "I honestly have no idea. Something which is comfortable, functional, and still formal. Something to conceal my spare figure, perhaps? I should not want to appear before the nobility of this realm looking as though I were a malnourished wastrel."

The tailor absently chewed on the plume of his pen as he pondered the nobleman's request. After a time, he nodded in satisfaction. "I've just the thing for you, then, if you'll trust me to see it through?" Joachim smiled in relief. "Absolutely. I leave the entire matter in your capable hands."

"White breeches then, to go with what I've in mind, and we'll see to the boots as well, since we've a cobbler who works out of our shop." the tailor said in approval.

"I thank you." Joachim said sincerely as they were packing up their instruments and samples. The tailor looked at him in frank astonishment, gray eyebrows lifting nearly to his well-receded hairline. "Well, you're a polite one, I'll give you that much. We'll have your clothes ready before the formalities begin, so you needn't worry yourself. Have a pleasant evening, young lord." The man bowed smartly before chasing his attendants from the room and leaving Joachim alone with his thoughts.

_ Well, that was easier than I thought. Though I cannot help but wonder what foppish nonsense will be delivered._ Joachim reclined in his chair and appeared to be deep in thought. The room was quiet and still until, quite suddenly, he cursed and brought one fist down upon the arm of the chair in agitation. "God's breath! I neglected to bring any books!"

Tired, dismayed and completely shamed, Joachim tilted his head back against his seat and closed his eyes. The fete was proceeding worse than he had expected, which was surprising, given his cynicism. The proceedings filled the King's hall to overflowing, and the din of numerous voices caused an ache to settle behind Joachim's melancholy eyes. Bright banners were hung from the rafters, garishly proclaiming the presence of the numerous noble families in attendance. Pageboys ran to and fro' delivering summons, well-wishes or snatches of illicit gossip or correspondence between besotted young lovers. Torchlight flashed on the many bright clothes and jewels which adorned the wealthier celebrants, and the overall pomp and vanity frayed the young nobleman's nerves beyond salvage.

He was arrayed in his newest clothes; a stylish blue jacket with clever hook-and-knob catches covered him from neck to wrists in thick velvet, effectively concealing his thin arms and chest. Loose white breeches encased his legs and were tucked into soft brown leather boots which ended just below his knees. The tailor had taken this ensemble one step further; the jacket doubled as a robe, and was slashed in both the front and back, both to preserve Joachim's freedom of movement because of his reliance on a cane, and to mask the looseness of the breeches. Rich embroidery decorated the hem of his robe, and his jacket was also embroidered in a complex trellis pattern. The overall effect was stylish and fashionable, but Joachim's demeanor lent the outfit an air of somberness and regality. He drew many inquisitive stares, not only because of his outfit, but also because of his finely wrought face, which had acquired a more mature mien over the course of the last several days. His ivory pallor discouraged the less bold from venturing close to him, and there were already whispered comments concerning the severity of his sickness passing amongst the noble families.

The eligible daughters of influential lords had been paraded in front of him all evening, each with varying degrees of either awe, horror, or pity stamped upon her features. Their flawless manners and impeccable breeding had immediately come into control, masking the expressions of each of the young women. Not all of them had kept their social masks in place, though, as he had bowed over their reluctantly outstretched hands. One of the more dainty of the bridal troupe, as Joachim had begun to privately think of it, had shuddered when he placed a chaste and polite kiss upon the back of her hand.

The Baron had not helped in smoothing over his son's nerves, either. "They may be wealthy, aright, but what use has the Armster family for wealth?" he sneered as he stood by, a decanter of rich wine clasped in his meaty fingers. He appraised the next candidate with approval as she approached their bench. A particularly heavyset young lady curtsied prettily to the Baron before turning to his son. "Good even' milord." she greeted in a surprisingly rich voice as she extended her hand. Joachim dutifully struggled to his feet and clasped her fingers gently. No sooner had his lips met her hand than he heard his father's frank appraisal.

"She's of good breeding stock, boy, and her blood is nearly as blue as ours. Look at her hips; she would have no difficulty in throwing a son." Karl chortled as he quaffed his drink. Joachim's eyes darted to the lady's face, which had flushed a bright shade of crimson. _As my own no doubt has!_ he thought angrily as warmth suffused his pallid features with color. True to her upbringing, the young woman did not speak up in her defense, nor did she acknowledge the crudeness of the Baron's remark. She curtsied once more to Joachim and his father, murmuring a subdued, "By your leave, milord." Eyes lowered demurely, she quietly trod back to her place among her relatives. She had been the only woman thus far to not show a hint of revulsion.

Furious, Joachim turned to glare at his father, the blood rushing from his face to his pounding head. "Must you be so arrogant?" he hissed, "Could you not have at least waited until she had gone from earshot before comparing her to the livestock in the pastures?"

Karl Armster regarded his son disdainfully before coldly replying, "Of what matter is it to you? You will likely be dead before the next harvest! Turn you energies and concerns to a more fruitful goal, _son_!" he spat.

As Karl stalked away, Joachim sank weakly into his chair and buried his face in his hands. His life was falling to pieces, and he could not stop thinking of Norgard. "I'll be waiting for you." he murmured into his fingers, repeating those words which had kept him from faltering since his departure. Joachim wished that he could open his eyes, toss away his cane, and run from the crowded hall. He fancied stealing a horse and escaping home through the back roads, whereupon he would invade the scullery and fend off the tyrannical cook before fleeing the scene with his beloved Norgard. He was not entirely certain what would happen after that, so he abandoned his fanciful thinking and almost immediately fell into self pity. Joachim grimaced into his palms and exhaled shakily. _Oh, stop pitying yourself! _he chided, _Surely there are wretches in this world who are worse off than you!_ Besides, the likelihood of his dreams coming to fruition was as impossible as the prospect of his father suddenly collapsing of a mortal heart failure, though the thought _did _cheer him a bit.

_I would attend your funeral, as befits a grieving son, and when the parish priest and the other mourners had gone, I would happily piss on your grave mound._

A fanfare of trumpets pulled him from his reverie, and he propped his chin upon his cane as the court quieted, then began to buzz with renewed talk and agitated movements. _They are like a hive of agitated insects._ Joachim thought in disgust. The court herald smoothed his livery before drawing a deep breath and announcing, in a rather bored tone, "Count Walter Bernhard!"

_Another puffed up lord, no doubt, probably wearing so weighty a mass of jewels and trinkets that it could send a sailor at his funeral to the bottom of the sea._ Joachim snorted at the thought. He vaguely caught sight of a shock of red hair, and heard a deep and throaty laugh before the assembled noblewomen clustered about the newcomer in the same manner as nervous hens will cluster around a rooster when assailed by a bored dog. Joachim rolled his eyes at the proceedings before he rose wearily to his feet and slowly made his way towards the nearest exit. His father was across the hall, engaged in conversation with several other men who appeared every bit as ill tempered as he was. As he headed out the door, Joachim tousled the head of a pageboy who looked remarkably like Norgard's brother. The child simply stared at him in astonishment before sticking out his tongue. Joachim chuckled and menaced the boy with his cane as he pushed the door closed behind him.

The scent of newly blossomed spring flowers surrounded him, and Joachim planted the tip of his cane firmly in the earth as he inhaled their rich fragrance. He had not been out of doors since he had been hurriedly bustled from the coach into the palace. The elder Armster had been leery of allowing his son outdoor excursions ever since Joachim had contracted a severe cough at the age of seven. He had slipped in and out of his sickened fits for so long that the entire household had expected his next lapse into a fitful struggle for breath would end with his demise. Joachim had realized the severity of his present condition when his father had insisted that he attend the fete. The coach ride had not been easy for him.

The Royal gardens were truly exquisite, and it was evident that much thought and care had gone into their creation. Carefully plotted footpaths wound amongst trellises laden with ivy and creeping flowers, statues peered from amongst the various flowerbeds, and benches were set at various points along the paths to allow visitors a chance to rest as they contemplated the beauty surrounding them. _Norgard, _he thought sadly, _would love this place._ Vowing that he would relate all of his new experiences to her over the first breakfast after his homecoming, Joachim made his way towards a bench and settled carefully onto its surface, wincing at the cold.

Though the bench proved to be uncomfortable, he felt very at ease. He briefly entertained the notion that he was pleasantly intoxicated, until he remembered that he had not allowed himself to sample the wine. His cane slipped from his slack fingers and clattered briefly on the footpath as he slumped over. Joachim was thinking of the bruises such a fall could accrue when strong hands caught him and pulled him upright. He wanted to turn and thank this person, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and his limbs felt leaden.

He was vaguely aware of someone cradling him while brushing back his hair, and for a moment he was reminded of what Old Nan the midwife had said of his birth: "Your mother, she held you just once. She held you close to her, and the worry in her eyes was all for you, you were so still. You didn't cry after you was born. No, you just opened your eyes and looked right at her. She died like that, loving you. I saw it in her face. Never forget that, boy. Your mother loved you." He had only spoken with her that once, and she had died soon afterwards of old age and weariness.

_I'm dying_, _and she has come to guide me over._ _I did not make it till harvest after all._ Joachim wrenched open his heavy lids and looked at his mother's face. What he saw froze the blood in his veins and caused him to struggle fearfully, for it was the face of a devil. Winged eyebrows arched over dark eyes, and his captor's lips tilted in a cruel smile. Lethargy again stole over Joachim, rendering him slack, and his heart seemed to struggle frantically. It was as though his body was no longer in his control, and he felt like the helpless observer who can only look on in astounded silence while an atrocity is committed.

Joachim began to weep silently in terror and frustration, tears streaking his cheeks and collecting in his eyelashes. Thick red hair blocked his vision of the surrounding gardens. He could dimly hear the talk and laughter streaming from the nearby palace, and he struggled vainly to cry out. _And to think that I was so eager to leave that brightness and clamor, more the fool I for not staying! _

The devil seemed to read his thoughts, and it grinned at him maliciously. Joachim wondered drunkenly whether or not it had come to escort him to Hell. Its head dipped low as it tugged firmly on his hair, pulling his head to one side and exposing his neck. Joachim felt its warm breath, and then a shock of pain as its teeth pierced his flesh. He finally realized the creature for what it truly was when he felt its mouth working greedily to draw the blood from his veins.

_Vampire! Only a legend, how can this be?_

Overcome with revulsion, Joachim again fought to overcome the creature's hold on his mind and body. His hands reluctantly rose to his bidding as he weakly pushed at his assailant's chest, then battered at its face. Sobbing openly, he tore at its eyes with his nails and pulled at its hair, desperate for surcease. The vampire easily caught both of Joachim's hands and wrenched his arms behind his back.

Lights were beginning to flash behind his eyes, and he felt as though a void had opened beneath his paralyzed form. Joachim's heart raced in an attempt to more quickly circulate the blood that had not been drained from his body. The feel of his faltering pulse terrified Joachim more than the unholy creature holding him, and he drew in a deep breath, and the last vestige of his will. The vessels behind his wide and dilated eyes burst as he screamed; the wordless cry of a hare caught in a trap, or a hind as it is pulled down by a brace of hounds. It was the primal scream of a creature which realizes it is about to die.

Pain seared Joachim's neck as the vampire tore its mouth away with a muffled curse, throwing its victim to the ground. The vampire turned away from him in disgust, and he watched in a stupor as the fiend simply disappeared. As shocked celebrants rushed towards where he lay, Joachim realized dimly that a mist had fallen over the garden.


	6. Chapter 6 Interlude

**Chapter 6**

**Interlude**

_When I next awakened, I hardly recognized myself. My body, for so long a faulty vessel, was healed. I was still physically weak, but I no longer bruised, bled, or tired when I exerted myself._

_After I was discovered lying in the garden, I was immediately moved to my guestroom, and the King's head physician was sent to attend to me. The leech came to the conclusion that I had been struck by a poisonous serpent and would not last through the night. Apparently Father raised quite the uproar, making a show of pulling at his hair and shredding his doublet. A priest sat at my side through the crisis, preparing to administer the last rites should I have suddenly slipped into death. By the next evening, the priest was praising God, Christ and the Virgin Mother for my miraculous recovery from the "serpent's venom"._

_When I recall how happy I was during those initial days, I want to weep. Life or fate, whichever you prefer, perhaps even God, had dealt me yet another cruel blow. So ironic that the state which brought such joy to me in my ignorance would prove to be yet another factor which would haunt me for the remainder of my _very_ long life._

_I know now that I am losing my mind. I can feel it happening, though it makes me wroth to admit this. It is too difficult to remain sane here, in this wretched place. I frequently fall into fits, screaming until my voice cracks and my throat aches. I have tried to escape, oh, countless times. I have spent hour upon hour searching the walls of my prison, repeatedly probing and prodding at the wards which seal the door tightly shut._

_Every time I become hopeful enough of a chance to escape I drag myself from my thoughts and repeat my routine. First the walls, along the floor, the rats have to use some manner of entrance and exit, yes? They cannot move through walls! Oh, but these passages are too diminutive for one such as I. I scrabbled furiously at the most prominent one until my claws cracked and my fingers bled. When this method proved to be unfruitful, I was forced to return to my corner to sulk. Oh, and sulk I do, frequently! The torture I mentally inflict on myself every hour is worse than the rigors of being locked in here to starve, though I have managed to persevere. When one is hungry enough, they will eat almost anything._

_Even now, as I lay still and quiet, a rat cautiously crawls towards the ruins of my fingers. I force myself to remain still, to wait for it to draw even closer. As I listen to the scrabble of its tiny claws on the stone and the humming susurrus of its heart, I feel the ache in my gums as my incisors slide from their sheaths. The rat lifts its ragged head and scents the air, whiskers twitching, dark eyes searching. Satisfied, it crawls up to me and begins nibbling at my fingertips. There! Swiftly I catch it up and snap its neck. It emits one piercing shriek before its spine is severed. Trembling now, I rip through ragged fur with my teeth and groan as warm life pours into my mouth and down my throat. I do not cease when the rodent is drained. Desperate, I slice through its stomach with my hardened claws and remove the moist organs, cramming them into my mouth and crushing them between my teeth until they, too, are dry. _

_When I have finished I am sated and disgusted. I turn my head to the side and spit the desiccated flesh onto the ground. The rat I toss across the cavern. It connects solidly with the door, emitting a dull thunking sound. I laugh at the stupidity of the situation. Soon enough my laughter becomes hysterical, and I sit back heavily, wrapping my arms around my chest. I don't know why I cannot seem to hold it back. I do manage to reduce my laughter to giggles, and my lungs and throat burn as I inhale, trying to catch my breath. Finally, I am forced to allow this laughter to find its own end, and I stretch out upon the ground, tears streaming from my eyes, face burning. Oh, I want out of here! Would I have been so insubordinate, so bold had I known how difficult and painful this imprisonment would be? Would I have compromised my ethics in order to spare myself torment? I am no longer certain that I would have, and it is this knowledge which frightens and haunts me more than the cold or the damp, the hunger and pain, even the complete separation from the one person I love. _

_Is she still alive? Is she still waiting? Walter has stolen my beloved from me as surely as he has stolen away countless others, only it is I, not she, who is imprisoned in this hell. How long has it been since I was thrown in here and left to rot? How long has she been waiting for my return? I cannot even count the days, for it is always night here. Even the order of nature has been warped to suit Walter's desires. _

_There is a slight opening behind the altar which lies within this ancient cavern. The light of the moon seeps through this solitary window, though even this sight has been perverted, and the once beautiful silver light is red and sickly. The gates which partitioned the shrine from the rest of the cavern did not deter me for long. I twisted them in a rage the first night I was imprisoned here, and they now lean crookedly and unsteadily from their hinges. Ah, Walter, I still cannot understand this._

_If I had enough blood in my parched veins to awaken my dormant heart it would surely be racing at this moment. I feel the old rage rising through me, and I angrily push myself to my feet and stride towards the center of the cavern. Inhaling deeply, I raise my arms slowly, watching as my swords rise with the motion of my body. It is a simple task to exert another slight push, and my heels leave the ground, followed slowly by my toes. The only force holding me aloft is my own will. What a pity, a great shame that I had not been this strong before, when I had needed that strength to succeed._

_Concentrating deeply now, I rotate the swords until their blades lay parallel to the ground. With a sharp flick of my right wrist, the blades hurtle forth, one by one, piercing an imaginary foe. A jerk of my left wrist brings them quickly to heel, whereupon they are sent forth once more. I close my eyes and grasp a hold of the air, shaping it into a likeness of my enemy. There, now I can judge the accuracy of my aim. Illusions are easy work for any vampire, but they only work to fool the uninitiated humans. Walter had once laughed at my illusions, berating me for being a 'damned sentimental fool' when he had caught me shaping a likeness of my beloved. I dare not even whisper her name in my mind, for fear of the pain it brings me. I have long since ceased shaping her from dust and moonlight, for the sight of her face as an untouchable illusion is a torment I would rather not endure._

_Walter's doppelganger sneers at me, curling its lip upwards in feigned disgust. I well remember that look, and the moonlight gleams on my sword's blade as it slices cleanly through his neck. Trembling with hatred, I clench my fists into my robe and push my rage into my next offence. My vision darkens into a narrow passage as I cease my hand motions, directing only with my eyes. Four swords pierce through illusory flesh, making a pincushion of my target. It falls into moonbeams and dust once more, and my swords return to my sides, thrumming contentedly._

_Have you forgotten me, Walter? I have not forgotten you. You cannot keep me here forever, I will escape even if I must wait for judgment day, and when that day arrives I will finally live my life; after ensuring your death._

_I lower myself and my armaments once more to the chilled stone as a headache brought on by hunger and exertion pulses behind my weary eyes. If only I could charm animals…the rats would come to me in droves and I might have enough blood from them to escape. I run my tongue gingerly over my parched lips, seeking for any droplets that I might have missed. Of course, there are none. I believe that I would readily pounce upon one of those noxious fish creatures were it to stumble in here. My veins ache as I drag myself across the floor and into my patch of moonlight, where I curl into a tight, miserable ball. As I stare absently at the ever youthful face reflected in the blades surrounding me, I drift once more into my memories._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

When Joachim next opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the astonished face of an aging priest. The old man's eyes focused on him sleepily at first, but then they widened, and he grasped at the crucifix hanging from his waist, bringing it to his lips and kissing the worn metal reverently.

"Oh, my! My goodness, well! You have awakened, and praise God for his mercy! We have been so worried that He would take you from us." The priest crossed himself and, laying a hand on Joachim's pale forehead, intoned a solemn benediction. The young man's eyelashes fluttered as his eyes roamed around the room. For a moment he was overcome with a feeling of dislocation. He was aware of a dull ache in his neck, as well as another feeling, one he could not identify.

Joachim's eyes felt leaden, and when he opened his mouth to question the priest, he found that he had to swallow several times to dispel the dryness in his throat. "Wha… what?" he croaked weakly, "What has happened?"

The priest was still for a long moment, worrying at his rosary with hands worn and spotted with age as his lips moved in what Joachim assumed was a prayer. When he placed his hand over his mouth and coughed, the holy man started and blinked at him. Joachim gestured frantically for water, and the priest lifted his head gently, supporting him as he drank greedily from the cup placed against his cracked lips. It was with great reluctance that he turned his head aside to signal that the cup was empty, and he was still plagued with thirst as the priest lowered him back onto the pillow.

The old man set the cup on the bedside table and appeared to be thinking. "Ah! Forgive me, but I am old and weary, and it is sometimes difficult to collect my wandering thoughts. My name is Father Adolphus, and it would appear that you were bitten by some form of serpent. Apparently not a poisonous adder though, since you seem to have recovered well. No doubt it was the shock which caused you to become sick… yes, yes. At least, that is what the physician believes. At any rate, you seem well enough now…. Had it been poisonous, you would indeed be dead."

Joachim had lain quiet while the priest spoke, an indescribable look of horror etched on his features. His fingers twitched, and one hand lifted to touch the bandages at his throat before he composed himself and lifted a pale brow. "I am surprised by your knowledge of venomous serpents, father." The priest only smiled, lines crinkling his forehead and face. He chuckled as he patted his charge's hand and struggled to his feet. "I merely heard it from the royal physician. Well, I believe I shall seek out your father, Baron Karl Armster. He is quite frantic with worry, you know."

"I suppose he would indeed be…frantic." Joachim murmured dryly. Father Adolphus had already stepped through the door and appeared not to have heard Joachim's parting remark. Joachim shuddered as he remembered the creature, the vampire which had attacked him in the garden. It all seemed so surreal. Trembling at the memory of its eyes and teeth, he reached for his neck and slowly unwrapped the bandages.

_A serpent. How I wish that were the truth! That creature… I have read stories of them, peasant rumors from amongst the Roma tribes of the east, but I never expected that they were anything more than stories! Women who commune with the dead, these earrings, and now a vampire! If this situation did not terrify me, I should love it._

He noticed that the bandages were clean and emitted the faint scent of medicinal herbs. Visibly frightened, Joachim reached with two fingers for the source of the ache. Sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart hammered as he brushed gingerly over the twin punctures. Snatching his hand away, he replaced the linen bandages, fumbling in his haste. He cursed as he retied the knot and bit fiercely at his lower lip to keep from screaming. The same phrase circled around in his head like a litany as his hands fisted in the bedclothes. _It wasn't a dream, it was real, it wasn't a dream it was real…_

By the time Joachim's father and the physician entered his room, the young man had regained as much of his composure as was possible. He had propped himself up on a mound of pillows, determined to face his father with all the dignity he possessed. His long fingers were interwoven in his lap in an attempt to mask their quaking. The physician stood at Karl's elbow for a moment before the Baron dismissed him with a nod. After the man had taken his leave, quietly closing the door behind him, Karl approached his son's bedside and lowered himself into the chair vacated by the priest.

Never before had Joachim noticed the extent of his father's age. Deep lines scored the Baron's face, his forehead in particular. Weariness shadowed his visage and created bruises beneath his eyes. _So strange,_ _if I did not know the depths of cruelty this man was capable of sinking to, I should pity him. Ah, these strange thoughts. I must be ill!_

Karl did not initially look at his son, he instead kept his eyes fixed on his hands, all the while clenching and unclenching his thick fingers. Again, Joachim was struck by the differences in their physical appearance. Karl was tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders, a thick neck and strong legs which were refined from his years spent ahorse while overseeing his estates. Joachim was slender, of middling height, with a long neck and a bone structure which was every bit as prominent as a delicate woman's would be. His father's eyes were a chilling blend of pale blue and gray. As a child, Joachim had always felt as though he were caught in a violent storm whenever his father looked upon him with those cold eyes. His own were a pale lavender, and they provided a haunting contrast to his ivory skin and hair long since turned gray from the rigors of a stressful and sickly life.

_It would seem that our disappointments in life have affected us equally, Father. _Joachim mused, saddened. After a long and particularly uncomfortable silence, Baron Armster cleared his throat and raised his eyes to his son's pensive face. "I know not what to say, Joachim. They told me that you would not make it through the night. Yet here you are, recovered as though the hand of our Lord was upon you through these darkest hours." Karl sighed harshly and riffled his head uneasily, unaccustomed to speaking with his own son as though they were equals. "Neither do I know what I should think! As soon as you are deemed fit for travel, we shall return home. I had arranged your betrothal mere moments before the incident, and… strangely enough, after I had called it off I was informed of your recovery. Perhaps God means to tell me that… this is indeed the end of the Armster line. And that is as it should be." The old man bowed his head in silence, weariness and defeat before he laboriously pushed himself to his feet and turned to leave the room.

Impulsively, Joachim called after him, "Father!" His father's head swung around, and he stared at his son expectantly. Joachim's lips parted, and he found himself speaking in spite of his sense of self preservation. "Anna is weeping for us, even now. Does she not deserve to rest easily?"

Karl Armster's eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened in fear. He advanced upon his son, one finger pointed shakily towards Joachim in accusation. "Don't speak of the dead so lightly, boy! She haunts me! That unholy witch!" His voice rose to a shrill pitch, and his eyes fairly gleamed with madness. Joachim's own were wide, and he sat stunned in the face of this revelation. _He feared her! Even now he is afraid!_

"She cursed me! Cursed me with you! With a son who cannot even fulfill his responsibilities! A burden and a failure, she has made the both of us thus!" Karl was breathing heavily, and his face was flushed with crimson. He staggered against the wall, one hand groped desperately for something solid to grasp, the other clutched at his chest as he wheezed in pain and fear. He at last turned and fled the room, screaming for the physician to attend to Joachim.

The young man covered his mouth with his hands, stunned. _Whatever on earth possessed me to say such a thing to him? And why could I not see this? The drinking, the rages, his sullen hatred, all were a result of his fears! Though he has tormented me cruelly, he has also done thusly to himself! The inadequate son…Did he speak of me or himself all these years? A witch? Was Mother blessed, as Norgard is? Does no one have any answers?_

Joachim gritted his teeth and slammed one hand down on the table in frustration, startling when he heard the wood groan in protest. He looked over to see a deep indentation beneath his fist, and he hurriedly shoved the nearby Bible over the damage, sputtering in confusion the entire time. _That senile priest must have forgotten it. _ He flexed his fingers, surprised that there was no pain or bruising. _Now what?_ He nearly leaped from beneath his bedclothes when the physician entered his room with a steaming cup in his hands. The man looked him over dispassionately, leaning in closely to scrutinize Joachim's eyes. The young nobleman flinched and forced himself to remain passive. At last the physician sniffed, satisfied, and administered a tincture of tea, lightly laced with belladonna. "Rest up." the man said, and he moved away, the hem of his black robe swishing softly over the stone floor.

Joachim downed the noxious mess quickly, gagging at the taste. He felt his eyelids grow heavy as he placed the cup on the table, and he shifted about in bed fitfully, seeking a comfortable position. As he at last settled beneath the thick eiderdown cover, he vaguely made out a figure in the shadows by the wardrobe, but his sleep-clouded mind was quick to dismiss it. He fell easily into sleep, his waking mind sloughing off its analytical properties as his dream self swiped absently at the lazily bobbing heads of immense wildflowers. He heard a woman's laughter behind him, and he turned his head, eyes searching eagerly for the strangely familiar sound.

A beautiful woman crowned with white lilies smiled at Joachim joyfully as she extended her arms in welcome. An unspeakable sadness and tenderness tore through him as she drew nearer, the flowers bending their stalks to clear a path for her. The young man knew instinctively that this was his mother. How could he not? He sighed as her soft fingers caressed his expectant and weary face before he was enveloped in her embrace.

"My sweet Joachim." she breathed, "That you have grown to manhood without me pains my soul more than you will ever know." Her luminous blue eyes grew mournful and she clutched him more tightly as though she were wracked by a sudden paroxysm of grief.

"Mother." he murmured through the thick tresses pressed against his cheek. "Tell me if this is death, for if it should be, then it is a thousand fold improved compared to the excuse for life which I have suffered!" He moved to encircle his mother with his own arms, but she leapt nimbly away, and he was left with empty air as his partner.

A look of sadness and reproval crossed her wise face as she slowly shook her head, setting the tiny silver bells hanging from her ears atwinkle. "Life is a gift, my son. A gift I sacrificed to give to you. Though I lay dying, the memory of you lying peacefully in my arms was the most joyful moment that I ever experienced." Anna smiled at her son as she stepped forward and framed his face with her delicate hands. Joachim covered them with his own as his eyes drank in the sight of her face, desperate to commit every minute detail to memory.

"You are to face a grave and rigorous trial, Joachim." her voice was both steady and serious. "I know what the physicians have told you, and it is indeed the truth. Your life was destined to come to an early end, and yet, the natural order of this most fundamental of cycles has been disrupted." A look of horror twisted her features, and she gasped. Joachim realized with dismay that he was fading, slowly returning to the waking world. He gazed tearfully at his mother, not wanting to leave her, desperate to extend their contact.

Stifling a cry, his mother wrung her hands. "Ah, Joachim! The gods have forsaken you! Be wary, but keep your hope! You must find your own salvation now! Alas, if only we were given more time…" her voice trailed off unsteadily and she trembled. "Joachim, know in your heart that I love you, my son." _I have your sapphires._ Joachim thought drunkenly as his mind fragmented. He tried to reach her, to touch her one last time, but the waking world seized him as a fox grips a hen, and he came violently awake.

As he gasped for air, heart pounding, he felt a wetness on his face and angrily dashed away his tears. There was a burning sensation in his throat, and his mouth felt dry and sticky. Desperate to ease this new pain, he fumbled blindly for the pitcher of wine on his bedside table. In his clumsy haste he sent both the rosary and the Bible tumbling to the floor, as well as his cup. When he heard the sound of ceramic breaking on stone, he cursed angrily and seized the pitcher in both hands, bringing the rim to his lips.

Careful not to waste a single drop, Joachim drained the pitcher hurriedly and set it aside. His breathing was harsh as he licked his lips and tucked his hair behind his ears. His stomach felt leaden and sore, while the painful burn in his throat had manifested itself in his entire body.

"Christ's blood!" he gasped as he struggled frantically from beneath his bedcovers. His sleeping robe was twisted around his legs when he stood, and he stumbled uncaringly into furniture as he hurried towards the single candle burning cheerily in the washroom. Sweeping up the ewer, he downed its contents, and abruptly suffered a painful wrenching in his guts. Joachim clutched at his midsection with an agonized shout as he dropped the ewer, not noticing or caring that it had shattered and its shards were strewn about his feet.

Joachim sank to his knees as he retched, one hand clamped tightly over his mouth. He lurched towards the privy like an intoxicated madman, on knees which were cut and bleeding from the sharp edges of broken crockery. He was surprised that no one had been sent to investigate the noise he was making, but he was secretly glad they had not. Any physician would have given him a brief look and declared him sick with madness. Spending the remainder of his life locked up in a sickroom did not appeal to Joachim, and he kept his peace. No longer able to hold either water or wine, he leaned over the privy and vomited painfully.

It was at this moment that Joachim realized he was no longer alone as his hair was pulled back from his clammy face and secured with a tie. One hand supported him, holding his arm while the other rhythmically rubbed and patted at his back. He retched until he was quite certain that his stomach was empty, and his eyes were ready to burst from their sockets.

A cup of water was pressed against his lips, and he weakly accepted it. "Clean your mouth and _spit_. Do you hear me? Or do you want to be at this all night?" Accustomed to following reasonable orders, Joachim obeyed, rinsing the foul taste of bile from his tongue. Another cup was proffered, this one filled with a thick, dark liquid, the scent of which caused his parched throat to renew its protest. He drank greedily and was immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of well being as the tonic coated both his throat and aching stomach. "Not too quickly." the voice cautioned, and Joachim forced himself to drink slowly, savoring the taste of the rich beverage.

When he had finished, Joachim was slowly assisted to his feet before his benefactor lifted him up. A protest formed in the back of his throat, but then he heard the crunch of pottery being tread upon, and became aware of the soreness in his knees. Swallowing his pride, he allowed himself to be bundled into bed, where he sat patiently as the other man righted the overturned furniture and cleaned the glass shards from the floor. As he went about his tasks, Joachim caught a few glimpses of him whenever he moved through the patch of moonlight streaming through the window. There was something eerily familiar about the man, and he pondered his new situation as he hugged himself against uneasy chills.

When he was at last satisfied with the present state of Joachim's chambers, the man swept his hands down the front of his tunic and sat beside the bed. Joachim had gone quite still as he watched his movements, and he felt the icy hand of fear upon his heart. The man smiled at him, baring perfect white teeth while chuckling at Joachim's discomfort.

"You are amused by this?" Joachim snapped, feeling very like a small creature which has been cornered by a vicious predator. His lavender eyes were flashing with both fear and hostility as the other man tossed his head back and laughed in approval.

"Oh, quite amused! You surprise me, Joachim. And to think that I feared this predicament would require a messy end." he clapped his hands together smartly, as though pleased with himself, and leaned closer to Joachim, who flinched away in sudden recognition.

"Forgive me. I have not yet introduced myself. I am Count Walter Bernhard, and you," Walter waved one hand elegantly, "are Joachim Armster, I know."

_Walter? That strutting peacock is the _vampire?

For a moment, Joachim forgot his fears and intently studied Walter, who was in a state of agitation. "_Peacock?_ You insulting creature!" Walter snarled, "Mayhap I should finish what I have begun!"

Joachim clapped both hands over his ears and shut his eyes tightly, "Vampire!" he hissed, "Stay out of my mind, fiend!"

Walter's lip curled in a sneer as he raked Joachim's tense form with his eyes in disgust. "Fiend? This is quite the case of the 'pot calling the kettle black'!" his voice lowered, becoming almost a purr, "What do you think was in the cup I just offered you, hmm? Medicated wine? Pfaugh! Have you any notion of how close to death you ventured, little fool?" Walter rose from his seat in a fluid motion, sending the chair tumbling to the floor as he paced the room angrily, his boot heels colliding with the stones like twin hammers as he moved. "Trust me, your conversion was not a part of my plan. My original intention was to leave you for the worms in that garden, but fate often has other plans for us, hmm? Have you not noticed the changes beginning already, Joachim? How both water and wine sickened you while blood nourished you? _My blood, Joachim!_"

"Quiet!" Joachim yelled hoarsely, "You_ liar_!" Nervous sweat trickled from his brow, and he swiped it away, keening in desperation when he saw the stain of crimson upon the back of his quaking hand. _Oh God! He speaks truth! I am dead! Dead and risen! _Joachim's eyes were wide, and his pupils had contracted with his fear. He stuffed his bloodied hand into his mouth and began to rock back and forth, laughing harshly, every exhalation a sobbing denial.

Walter had drawn close and was watching Joachim with frank interest, just as a cat studies the movements of a mouse in the granary. He reached forward to touch the younger man's shoulder, but Joachim pulled away from him and leapt from the bed, landing upon the rug in a crouch. "Don't touch me!" he whispered hoarsely.

To his surprise, the vampire did not. Walter raised both hands placatingly and moved to the opposite side of the room. "Joachim," he began soothingly, "_Listen_ to me. I sha'n't harm you, I mean only to tell you how things will be. I cannot unmake what I have done. If there is a cure for vampirism, none have yet found it. If you will cease those anxious thoughts, you will see that I have taken nothing from you which had any value, and I have given you more than you had any right to hope for. You wished to run without exhaustion? Fine, I have given you this, and more." Walter's fingertips absently traced patterns in the layer of dust coating the mantle above the fireplace. Joachim watched that hand vacantly, refusing to meet Walter's dark eyes.

Joachim's throat worked, and he swallowed visibly before speaking, "But I am forsaken. The gods will have no part of me, and heaven's gates are forever barred in my presence." Walter clucked in admonishment, "What fear has an immortal for the afterlife? Why should a deathless creature fear death?"

"My father will hate me." Joachim countered, knowing his reply was foolish the moment it left his lips. Walter laughed uproariously and slapped his thighs in his mirth, sending dust motes whirling madly in the moonlight. "Oh, you are a stubborn one! You cannot mean to tell me that you have any love for the old badger, or he for you? Ridiculous! You are being difficult Joachim! Oh, and if there is indeed one who loves you truly, that peasant maid will not feel disgust ere she sets her eyes upon your altered self."

Joachim looked up at Walter in alarm, "No, I, please, leave her out of this. These matters lie only betwixt ourselves, Walter." He had risen from his crouch and was wringing his hands nervously, face twisted in turmoil. Walter was an ancient and immeasurably wise creature, and though he could hear the younger man's thoughts, he could not know the depths of Joachim's heart. As soon as he had seen Joachim's reaction when Norgard had been mentioned, he gleefully knew he had found a critical element which could be utilized to his advantage. Outwardly, Walter remained placid as he shook his head and stepped forward to clasp Joachim's shoulder in reassurance. "She shall not know, if that is what is aggravating you. None must know."

Joachim looked at Walter, his expression haggard. "I should hate you," he whispered in a puzzled tone, "but hate never served anyone well in the end. What shall I do?" his voice trailed off brokenly, and his eyes expressed the depth of his bewilderment. In his confusion, Joachim had lost all the confidence he had been slowly building. He had possessed no fear while death had stood somberly at his shoulder, but now his situation had altered completely, and he had no solutions. He well knew what the existence of a vampire entailed: endless days and nights, an unquenchable thirst for the blood of the living, damnation, rejection and hatred from family and friends, as well as all other humans. Joachim shuddered beneath Walter's grasp. _I would be hunted down like a wolf which has taken too many cattle from the same herd. Or a mad dog, which turns unpredictably, snapping at the hands it once lapped at in loving devotion._

Thus it was with me, and it will be the same for you." Walter affirmed. Joachim stood silently for a moment, and then he struck Walter across the face, raking at his flesh like a maddened cat, leaving deep gashes on the redhead's cheek. "Why this?" Joachim murmured as he regarded his nails, now hardened into talons. "Why did you not allow me to die? I was _supposed _to die!"

Walter sighed and released his hold, "I told you, it was not intentional, but when I saw you struggling against this death which you insist that you welcome, I knew at once that it would be a great loss to allow a soul as bright as yours to slip so quickly into the next world." His face had been slowly healing, the flesh regenerating as it knitted the gashes closed, and now he flicked the blood away absently.

_Most likely my own blood, which was stolen from me…_

"I do not understand you, Walter, and I do not understand this situation. However, I know that this 'gift' you have bestowed upon me will do me no good if I am lying staked and headless in a ditch, or a crossroads for that matter."

Walter smiled indulgently. "Then allow me to right the wrong I have committed. Allow me to aid you, and I will see to it that no harm should ever come to you from the hands of the humans. Since I have brought you into this new life, it is fitting that I assume the responsibilities of a father."

For a moment, Joachim did not speak, he slowly shook his head as the moonlight cast a halo about his pale hair. "What other choice do I have?" he said dryly. Walter extended one arm, and Joachim grasped the proffered hand, formally recognizing the covenant which had already been forged in blood.

_Miles away, a young woman tossed feverishly in her sleep, fingers clutching at the sparse straw mattress she lay upon. Tears seeped from beneath her eyelashes, and her flesh was clammy with the sickness brought about by grief. "Joachim…"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

"Load the luggage into the carriage and saddle one of the packhorses for me. Today I ride." It was a cool morning, and Joachim observed his breath fogging in front of his chilled nose as he tugged on a pair of leather riding gloves. He would be glad to put Brandenburg and its surreal memories behind him. Walter had left him the previous evening after Joachim had pleaded for permission to return home. The older vampire had honored his request, though with reluctance.

_"There is someone I need to speak with, if only to tell her goodbye, and… that I love her." _

_Walter cast his eyes heavenward and sighed in disgust, "Very well. However, I have told you that all relationships prior to your new life must be ended out of pure necessity. You'll only bring unnecessary grief upon yourself."_

_Joachim laughed bitterly, "Unnecessary grief? I have known her face my entire life. If I leave now, I will always have regrets."_

_"On your head be it."_

One of the stable boys coughed, "Milord, your horse is ready."

Joachim shook his head, dispelling his thoughts, and turned to the boy with a smile. "I thank you." he said sincerely. The boy stared at him for a moment before ducking into a clumsy bow and darting off.

The physician had examined him again this morning, surprised that he was strong enough for travel. Joachim had thought his father would perish from surprise when he had observed his son leaping down the stairs and running through the courtyard without the use of his cane. Karl did not question this turn of events, though he did shudder at the unnatural sight. The Baron's attitude towards Joachim had not changed, however.

As Joachim was swinging one leg over the saddle, he heard his father's voice. "It's useless, you realize." Karl sneered. "Show them kindness and they will do their best to trample your authority. See the look on that one's face?" he laughed harshly. "He thought you were either insane or propositioning him." The terrified demeanor he had displayed the previous evening had dissipated as quickly as the early morning dew, and his tongue was remarkably sharp.

Joachim colored for a moment before settling himself into the saddle, absently stroking the mare's neck in an effort to soothe her. She knew that the creature which sat atop her was not human, though it moved like one and appeared like all the rest. It did not _smell_ like a human. The horse whickered uneasily and stomped the hard packed earth in agitation. "Hey, hey. Easy girl, easy. I'll not harm you." Joachim soothed as she turned to regard him warily with one dark, intelligent eye. She huffed once more, and tossed her head, as though saying, _"Can you blame me?"_

Joachim righted himself and exhaled. _What now? How does one ride a horse? It cannot be too difficult, right? _He pressed his knees against the mare's flanks and made the clicking sound he often heard his father use. The horse swiveled one of her ears backwards and then proceeded to ignore him. Momentarily defeated, Joachim chewed at his lip as he gathered the reins up tightly and dug his heels in behind his mount's girth.

The surprised horse instantly shot forward, and Joachim was nearly thrown from the saddle. He yelled once in astonishment before the mare's neck smashed into his face, bloodying his nose. He dropped the reins and grasped the horse's mane tightly in his fingers as she pounded through the crowd of servants who abandoned their tasks to leap out of harm's way. He caught the sight of startled, amused, and flabbergasted faces as his horse charged through the compound and out the gate. Karl Armster had stared, dumbstruck, before bellowing, "_What in Hell are you doing, you stupid boy?"_ The aged Baron goaded his immense black charger into a gallop and pursued his son, who was now lost among the city streets surrounding the palace. Karl gritted his teeth and vowed to beat his son to within an inch of his miserable life if the horse did not succeed in killing him first.

Joachim was terrified, more so than when Walter had assaulted him. The horse's hooves pounded the hard packed earth of the city streets, and pedestrians screamed and quickly moved out of the path of the rampaging mare. The sight of buildings, stalls and faces moving by so quickly made his stomach turn, and he shut his eyes tightly. "_Please stop! Horse! Stop!_" he yelled desperately. The horse whinnied and snorted at the terrified people surrounding her, but she did not slow her pace, and soon she had taken Joachim completely out of the city.

When he looked about once more, he saw fields on all sides. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the dwindling sight of the palace and its walled city. Joachim groaned and carefully gripped the saddle as he straightened himself and slipped his boots securely into the stirrups. _This is not so bad! _ The mare seemed to have calmed, and her gait was slowing as she realized that this was the way home. Home meant a warm stall, fresh water and oats. It also meant that she could be rid of this bothersome creature clinging stubbornly to her back.

Joachim laughed aloud as the wind whipped through his hair and cloak, but his laughter faded as he heard another set of hoof beats, and the voice of a very displeased Karl Armster. "Grab the reins! Fool boy! Grab the damned reins and pull on 'em!" he shouted. Joachim froze for a moment before leaning once more over the mare's neck and reaching for the reins that dangled just out of the reach of his straining fingers. He cursed and stretched a bit farther. _Almost…_

The mare leapt to avoid a rut in the road, and Joachim's heart stopped as he was thrown completely from her back. The sound of hooves faded as he watched the ground reaching up towards him, and he closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth as it hit. Joachim rolled for a bit, bouncing painfully over the hard earth until he came to a halt, the breath knocked completely from his lungs. Karl reached him a moment afterwards, leaping from his horse and kneeling beside his son's still form. His rough hands turned Joachim over as Karl examined the boy's neck to make sure it had not broken in the fall. Joachim's eyes opened, and he grinned sheepishly at his father's angry expression. Karl was not amused.

The old man did not speak, instead his hands flexed tightly around his son's neck, and Joachim watched dispassionately as Karl wrestled with the urge to throttle him to death. Joachim grasped his father's wrists and twisted, forcing the Baron to relinquish his stranglehold. He rose to his feet in a fluid movement, graceful as a cat, grasping his astonished father's collar and hauling the old man up with him. Karl's mouth opened and closed, reminding Joachim of the time he had witnessed a fish being pulled from a barrel before the cook decapitated it with a cleaver.

He smiled disarmingly, and threw one arm around his father's shoulders. "Father, I have been thinking," he said brightly, "that I should love to learn how to ride a horse! I do believe that was the most terrifying episode of my life!"

It was a few hours before Joachim's wish was granted. His father had been eager to be out of his presence, and the old man had leapt atop his mount and set off whence he came. Joachim sat quietly beneath the budding branches of an immense rowan and napped while he waited.

_Rowan, said to protect against malicious demons and unquiet spirits if placed over the doorframe of the home._

He stood, stretched, and idly stroked one of the buds, noting that the miniscule, tightly curled flower was already sending its fragrant perfume into the air. Disgruntled, he sat once more, wrapping the thick folds of his cloak around his body as he struggled to swallow a yawn. Walter had warned him that he would oftentimes feel groggy during the day, since a vampire's nature was nocturnal. The fledgling had not yet found an opportunity to accustom himself to this, and was stubbornly persisting in retaining his diurnal lifestyle. _Maybe I should have taken the damn coach after all, though I fail to see how sleep is possible when the teamster seeks out every rut in the road._

_Where is the old man? How long does it take to fetch a horse from the stables? It isn't as though he _walked! _He probably means to be cruel by unsettling me, but he shall find me in a less hospitable mood than when he departed!_

Joachim stood and shook his head to ward off the persistent lethargy. He huffed and stamped his boots irritably, a furrow cleaving his brow as he paced beneath the tree. "Well, isn't this lovely?" he grumbled.

"Were you not supposed to be on your way home, Joachim? Or have they forgotten you already? Poor little boy."

Startled, but not particularly surprised, Joachim looked upwards as Walter tossed down the buds he had plucked from the tree. "Do you have any reason to be doing that?" Joachim queried, perturbed that the vampire had ruined not only his solitude, but the tree as well. The older vampire grinned and shrugged carelessly. "I am bored and it provides a momentary distraction. What other reason do I need? Pity that I did not hit that insolent mouth of yours. Really, Joachim. You need a few lessons in respect."

Joachim's mouth turned upwards, "I give respect wherever it has been earned, Walter." he stepped out of the way as Walter descended nimbly from the branches, and swatted at the redhead when he attempted to smear the sap from his fingers onto Joachim's cloak.

"Where did you come from, anyhow?" Joachim asked, curious. Walter brushed his pants off and fastidiously straightened his tunic before replying. "Oh, I have been waiting for you to pass. I watched as you fell from the horse, did you not hear my laughter? And the look on your father's face!" Walter chuckled, "Ah, but that was not so wise, you insolent pup! One would think you possessed no survival instincts."

"How so?"

Walter smirked and tousled Joachim's silver hair. "How is it that a boy on the verge of death miraculously becomes whole again over the space of a few nights? How does a sickly creature who is unable to dress himself without resting between articles of clothing survive a headlong fall from the back of a galloping horse?" Walter seized Joachim by the arm, his fingers easily encircling its width. "And how does so frail a thing as you effortlessly lift a man more than twice his own weight?" Walter released his hold and fixed Joachim with a serious expression. "Tread carefully, Joachim, or these newfound freedoms will be the death of you. You have been unbelievably ignorant this morning, something I do not wish to see repeated. You put yourself as well as I in danger by behaving so rashly, and, mark this, I _will_ finish what I have begun if I must."

Joachim met Walter's stare for a moment before dropping his gaze in embarrassment. He absently dug at the earth with his boot, feeling as though he were once more a child. "I know that you speak the truth, and I realize how dire the situation could become, but I have never known a feeling such as this!"

Walter rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Power, yes. Mind that it does not corrupt that naïve head of yours." he turned on one heel and strode towards the palace and its surrounding city. "Oh, and how _is _your nose?" he inquired over his shoulder.

Momentarily startled, Joachim suddenly recalled that he had injured his face, and he wondered why his father had not mentioned it. He prodded at his nose, and feeling no pain, dropped his hand with a shrug, chuckling contentedly at the miniscule flakes of dried blood which clung to his glove. "You're wrong, Walter. Power is not my fascination, but freedom is." Joachim vowed as he watched the vampire's arrogant stride.

He shielded his eyes against the sun's rays and observed his father and the baggage train at last making progress. Walter's retreating figure briefly raised one arm in a salute, but he did not slow his pace. The group approached slowly, and he saw that his father led another horse by its reins. Joachim leapt easily onto the beast's broad back, ensuring that his feet were tucked securely into the stirrups, and the reins coiled tightly about his hands. _No more tumbles in the dust._

Karl Armster shot Joachim a disapproving look before turning his head to the side and spitting. "Now pay attention, because I hate repeating myself." the old man grumbled. Joachim smiled sweetly at his cantankerous father, "Now Father, when have I ever given you less than my full attention and consideration?" he crooned.

In spite of Joachim's equine inexperience, their small caravan made decent progress, and the elder Armster decided that it would be best to lodge at an inn for the night. "If we set out at dawn, we should reach the manor by early afternoon." he reassured his men. Joachim apparently did not warrant any reassurance, and he had not received praise for his progress. He wondered if he cared, and decided that it would be foolish to allow the old man to wound his spirit any more than he already had. Instead, he gave his horse into the care of one of the inn's stable boys and grabbed his travel pack from the floorboard of the coach. _Let the rest of them smell as though they slept in the stable. There must be some way to procure a hot bath in this place._

Joachim had been surprised when his father had called a halt, pleading poor visibility. The young vampire had been able to easily discern the path before them, and for a moment he felt a swelling of pride and self satisfaction that he, the weakling, was capable of something the rest of these hardy men were not. Then he thought of Norgard, and his soul seemed to collapse in upon itself.

_Will she still love me, creature that I am? She is a witch of sorts, so perhaps I stand a chance. I hope so. I hope the love we share is strong enough to withstand this change. If I have gained immortality and find myself unable to share this time with my beloved, than Walter's gift holds no value for me, and I will plead for him to kill me. Life without love. What a barren and pointless existence. I have known it nearly all of my mortal life, and I cannot, do not, wish to imagine or endure such a pain as an immortal._

_I still cannot believe that Father has so quickly abandoned his hopes for a healthy heir, but I sha'n't persuade him otherwise!_

Shrugging off his thoughts and misgivings, Joachim pushed open the door to the inn's common room, fighting dizziness as the stench of smoke from tallow candles and warm, unwashed bodies assaulted him. His father was already busily haggling with the innkeeper over the price of dinner and lodging.

"I would not give you ten _Pfennigs_ for that swill, nor your ramshackle rooms!" Karl shouted, slamming his fist down on the scarred wooden countertop.

The innkeeper pulled at his mustache in consideration. "Seven _Pfennigs_." he offered, "I'll go no lower, else you'll surely bankrupt me. Those men-at-arms look damned hungry, and I'll not have 'em eating me out of business! Your rooms are on the second floor, last two doors on the right." he sniffed, wounded.

"I sha'n't be eating! Have one of your workers draw a hot bath and bring it to my room!" Joachim called over his shoulder as he hastily mounted the creaking staircase, eager to be away from the mass of humanity. Apparently this inn also doubled as the village pub, and it was packed from wall-to-wall. This did not bother Joachim, except that the people reminded him of _food_. He could practically smell the rich fluids running through their veins. One man tilted his head back to drain the brew from his cup, and Joachim stared fascinated at the pulse jumping steadily in his throat.

Shuddering weakly, he climbed the staircase and made straight for his rooms, slamming the door shut and leaning against its bulk wearily. He tossed his pack onto the bed, eyeing it with distaste. It was obvious from the stench that the mattress had not been changed in quite some time, and Joachim's keen eyesight easily picked out the tiny bodies moving amongst the woolen coverings. His lip curled in disgust, "I would rather sleep in the stables, at least the straw is changed regularly." he muttered to no one in particular. The staff had also neglected to empty and clean the chamber pot, and Joachim irritably unfastened the window shutters before leaning over the casement and dropping the pot outside.

Joachim unlaced his cloak and tossed it over the room's single chair as he paced about uneasily, swallowing against the all-too-familiar sensation in this throat and stomach. It had been the crowded taproom which had triggered his hunger, and he was determined to fight it. _I will not murder, I will not! _He clasped his mother's sapphire earrings, one in each hand, focusing on their comforting warmth as he sank into the chair.

He jumped in alarm when there was a pounding on the door. "Enter!" he called, and watched in relief as two of the stable boys placed a heavy tub of hot water in front of the fireplace. They left as quickly as they had entered, and Joachim snatched up his bag and quickly stripped, tossing his dirtied clothes aside and sinking gratefully into the hot water as he thoroughly soaped himself, scrubbing fiercely with a rough cloth to remove the day's grit from his skin and hair.

He toweled off quickly and slipped into the fresh set of clothes stuffed into his pack. He was relacing his cloak against the chill when there was another knock at the door, which swung open before he had time to reply. Walter kicked the door closed behind him and regarded his surroundings with the same distaste Joachim had displayed. "It's pitiable, is it not?" Joachim queried.

"Indeed." the older vampire replied. With a flourish, he procured a large flask and a cup from somewhere beneath the folds of his voluminous cloak. "I thought" he said airily, "that you might be thirsty. This fine vintage is aged by fourteen years. Then again, it might be slightly younger, or older. I was in a bit of a hurry, you see."

Joachim flinched at Walter's casual tone, but he accepted both flask and cup when they were offered to him. "Drink it quickly, lest it cools and congeals. Cold blood is not so palatable, it sticks to the roof of the mouth, coats the throat. Wouldn't want you to be hacking up bits of blood, would we?"

"Why are you in such a fine humor tonight, Walter?" Joachim asked warily as he uncorked the bottle and poured a cup for himself. He downed the first quickly, and forced himself to drink the second slowly.

Walter waved one hand when Joachim offered the bottle, "Conscientious of you, but no, I prefer to drink directly from the vein. You are quite the strange one, you do realize? I have never heard of a vampire, even a newly created one, sipping mortal blood as though it were a snifter of brandy! You are so very amusing, with your eccentricities."

Joachim grimaced and finished the last of his meal. "And you are quite possibly the most puzzling creature I have ever come across, more bizarre than anything I have read about. You have still neglected to tell me your motivations, Walter." He corked the bottle and passed it and the cup to Walter, who regarded him seriously.

"Perhaps someday, when you are more mature, more accustomed to your new life, perhaps then I will give you an explanation for everything." he said quietly. "But for now, content yourself with what I deem you ready to hear." Walter pushed the mattress out of his way and perched upon the wooden bed frame. "Tell me," he said eagerly, "what changes you have noticed?"

Joachim leaned back comfortably and laced his fingers over his warmed belly. "Where to begin?" he said, smiling. "Since childhood, I have always been weak, and I have relied upon a cane since I first began walking. This morning, I fairly leapt down the stairs, and ran through the corridors of the King's abode like an errant young boy. A fall such as the one you witnessed today would have previously killed me, less exciting situations have brought on attacks which certainly made me wish that I were dead."

Walter motioned impatiently with one hand, "Yes, yes. Even the weakest vampire is more durable than the strongest mortal! Have you noticed anything else? Anything… impossible for a human?"

"Moonlight provides the same illumination as the sun." Joachim told him. "I was surprised when those traveling with me this evening began to stumble and falter, since I could see perfectly." Walter nodded, but his face showed disappointment.

"Ah, well. Perhaps I am being too hasty. Allow me to demonstrate what I mean when I speak of impossible things." Walter turned to face the fireplace, he snapped his fingers briskly, and the logs and kindling burst into flame. He frowned, "That was too simple." He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew into them, as a frigid man will on a cold day. The night breeze instantly became a howling gale which nearly wrenched the shutters from the window. The terrified screams of both horses and men could be heard from below as the unnatural wind tore through the common room and stables. Only Walter and Joachim remained untouched by the tempest; the fire continued to burn, cheerfully popping and hissing to itself.

Joachim breathed out slowly as Walter lowered his hands and the wind died away. "No," he said, feeling inadequate, "I have noticed nothing at all like that!"

Walter shrugged elegantly, "As I said, I am being far too hasty to expect that you would. I shall take my leave now. You may be well satisfied with a single flask of secondhand blood, but I find that I could do with another vintage. Something with a bit of spice, perhaps a drunk from below."

The redhead rose to leave, but as he opened the door he turned to face Joachim. "You will be quite unable to sleep tonight, so I have brought something to keep you occupied." He chuckled darkly and tossed a book onto his charge's lap. Joachim flipped open the cover, and the stolen blood which warmed his veins turned cold and sluggish. Embossed on the title page, in red, were the words _Heathen Superstition_. The ribbon had been moved, and it now marked the location of the section entitled _Vampyres and Unquiete Spirites_.

_This is my book! From my library!_

He looked up quickly to demand what business Walter had at _his _home, but the vampire had already gone, the door tightly closed and bolted. Joachim clutched at the book and shuddered violently.

_Norgard slowly opened the door and stepped unsteadily into Joachim's chambers. Though the unnatural fever from the previous evening had broken, she was still very weak. Cook had been gracious enough to grant her a few days to recover during the Baron's absence, and she had accepted gratefully. She drifted through the room like a ghost, her long hair unbound and silver in the moonlight, her long white shift rustling about her ankles. The fireplace was cold, and the stone floor nearly numbed her bare feet, but Norgard told herself that it did not matter. She moved to the bookshelf and ran her hands over the soft leather spines, noticing that one book was missing. "That's odd." she murmured, "I could have sworn he forgot to take any books, and who would take one in his absence? None of us can read, and it's too stupid to try and sell it. No serf can afford a book. You'd be caught stealing and probably get your thievin' hand lopped off." She felt chilled by a terrible sense of foreboding, and the undeniable feeling that something dark and malevolent had stood in the same place as she, but she was unable to trace its path. "Still too weak for that!"_

_Norgard frowned, realizing how much Joachim would miss the volume. Impulsively, she crossed the room and unhooked the windows, pushing them open to allow the breeze to enter. She bolted the door and moved to the center of the room, raising her hands slowly. For a moment, nothing happened, but then there came the sound of quiet whispers, almost indistinguishable from the wind. Presently, a figure stood before Norgard, and she greeted the being with quiet respect._

_"Sylph of the Eastern Wind, canst thou tell me where my lover's book hath gone?" For a moment there was no answer, then the figure dissipated and its reply drifted to her on the wind, "In its owner's hands, in thy lover's hands._

_"How did that happen?" she mused, and started when the Sylph replied._

_"The vampire hath given it to him."_

_Norgard sank to the floor in realization, and burying her face in her hands, she wept bitterly._


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: To my dear and patient readers: Thank you so much for bearing with me. The last few weeks have been a real hassle, and I'm not quite out of the tunnel yet. I won't trouble you with personal problems, but I have been rather preoccupied. No, I didn't forget about you, or about this story. As always, thank you for reading and for posting reviews. You guys make it all worthwhile._

_Sincerely, D. _**  
**

**Chapter IX**

_There are events which can occur in a person's life that have such a great impact upon the heart, the mind, and the soul, that the feelings we experience during these times haunt us until we seek refuge within the earth, or upon the pyre. I have lived through many, and I find myself wondering, will death be powerful enough to shelter me? Or, is it hopeful dreaming that there is a lee behind the figure of whichever god chooses to embrace what remains of me? For every time I fall to my knees and pray for succor, there are another dozen times in which I plead to remain as I am._

_Is there any purpose in this? Or are we all figures set carefully upon a celestial board and meticulously moved about by beings with unfathomable hearts? Who can condone such suffering? The God of my father, that jealous desert deity? Perhaps there is no rhyme nor reason for our existence and its travails. It may be that the gods have grown tired of the cyclical entertainment we provide and have moved away to begin anew with another race of hapless creatures. If that is so, then they have all the pity that remains within me._

_If I have not yet wasted it upon myself._

Norgard was fastidiously pinning her hair up beneath her cap in preparation for the mid-afternoon meal when her brother shoved open the heavy door of the scullery sleeping quarters and leaped onto the mattress beside his elder sister. "Norgard! Norgard!" He bounced about in excitement, sending her pins to the floor as he gamboled with the pillow.

Norgard curbed her urge to shriek at the rowdy boy and swatted at him in irritation, snatching the pillow and smacking him soundly in the head with it. "Here now Christoph! Can't you see I'm busy? What's got you in a tizzy anyway?" She scooped up the pins and caught her brother's pants leg, dragging him into a sitting position beside her. "Messenger came on a horse and said he's coming back! He's coming home right now!" Christoph said gleefully, his chubby face a mass of dimples as he grinned at his sister expectantly.

Norgard froze, pin clutched in her trembling hand before she visibly shook herself and secured another lock, smiling at her brother as she did so. "That's wonderful news Christoph! And I bet you were first at the stables to hear it, yes?"

He puffed up, immeasurably pleased with his sister's praise. "That's right! I was! They said the Baron's coming home, but I didn't care none about that! I knew your 'lovebird' would be home too, so I rushed to tell you!"

Norgard gaped at her brother. "'Lovebird'? Where do you hear these things Christoph? Have you been eavesdropping on the maids again? Their talk is filthy! I won't have that, I'll tell Cook and the armsmaster to keep an eye out for you, Mr. Snoop!"

Christoph eased slowly away from his sister until he was beyond her reach. "I weren't in the eaves, I was hiding in the closet!" He shot back, and barely managed to shut the door before Norgard's pillow bounced from the paneling. She sat back, laughing as she finished with her hair, her spirits momentarily lifted.

She rose and straightened the rumpled bedcovers before retrieving the pillow and tossing it carelessly onto the mattress. Her humor faded and she frowned as she pondered her next move. She was uncertain which disturbed her more, the vampire which had attached itself to her lover, or the possibility that he might possibly be betrothed to a strange woman. She cursed, angry that she had forgotten to address the Sylph concerning the Baron's plans. She had awakened in a drained state from the previous evening's contact, and had been unable to repeat the rite. She blinked back the wetness in her eyes in frustration as she attempted to convince herself that it was caused by dust motes. "I can't fall apart now!" Norgard groaned, "Ah, Joachim. What does this life have planned for you, my love?"

Joachim breathed deeply as his horse plodded through the hamlet surrounding the manor. The smell of hearthfires and livestock permeated the spring air with its homely familiarity. _Home_. Everywhere he looked, the villagers were halting in the midst of their tasks to turn towards him with awed expressions. Recluse though he was, there was not a villager present in the crowd who had not heard of the Baron's sickly heir, and the tragedy surrounding his birth. Joachim's fingers tightened on the reins as the first whispers drifted towards him from the amassed crowd.

"Look at that!"

"The Lord's son is _riding?_"

"Where's his cane?"

"He looks so strong!"

"'Tis not natural..."

"Shush! 'Tis the work of God!"

"Or the Devil..."

The horse whickered uneasily and shied away from the encroaching villagers. One woman was bold enough to grab his leg as he passed by, a look of worship upon her face, eyes gleaming with the zealot's light. "He's an angel descended to us! Shining white!" Tears spilled from her eyes and she unwrapped her shawl to reveal the still figure of a sickly infant girl. "Please lord! Save my daughter, my Ida! Heal her!"

His own eyes were wide with panic. "Please..." he whispered weakly, as he strained to pull his leg from her grasp, "I cannot! I cannot help you!"

The woman continued with her pleas as though she had not heard him speak, and when he began to frantically shake his head she screamed and thrust the bundled body of her daughter towards him. Joachim pulled away from her with a sharp cry and struggled to remain in the saddle as his horse reared in a panic, sharp hooves lashing out. He watched helplessly as one hoof struck the woman in the chest, spinning her about before she dropped to the ground, where she lay in the mud like a pile of discarded rags. The men-at-arms rushed to surround the nobleman as a small group of villagers pulled the woman and her daughter out of harm's way.

One of the guards snatched the reins from Joachim's hands and led his horse away. He looked over his shoulder, brushing his silver hair from his eyes as a man sank to his knees with the woman in his arms. It was only when the man began to scream that Joachim realized she was dead, and he felt a weight, like that of many stones, pulling at his heart. Shuddering, he faced forward resolutely, but he cringed every time the bereaved villager's voice rang out behind him.

**"He is the devil!"**

And from somewhere on the wind, Joachim again heard that cynical, mocking voice: "_On your head be it."_

Norgard stood like a child, with her face pressed to the window, watching in astonishment as Joachim waved away the aid of a stableboy and quickly dismounted. He payed no heed to the rest of the party as they milled about, but instead made haste for the front entryway, opening the heavy oak doors with such force that they slammed into the stone walls on either side. She jumped in astonishment and clapped her hands over her mouth as she observed his agitated behavior. He made straight for his rooms, ignoring the looks of the staff as they hurried out of his way. Here too there were whispers of disbelief.

Norgard lifted her skirts slightly, bunching them in one hand as she set off in his wake. He did not slow his pace until he reached the corridor oustide his chambers. Her heart was in her throat, and she wiped the nervous perspiration from her hands shakily.

"Joachim." she called out softly. For a moment, he remained silent, with his hands clenched into fists, his back perfectly straight. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were vacant, and his voice was hollow, completely devoid of emotion as he spoke. "I killed her. The woman and her daughter. My God! Does the child live? Or have I murdered twice within the space of one day?"

"Joachim, what do you mean?" Norgard queried, as fear clutched her heart in its merciless grip. "Why would you harm anyone? Ah, love! Come with me now and we'll sort all this out!" she finished in a firm tone which held more conviction than she truly felt. She moved towards him while she spoke, and as she finished she took him reassuringly by the hand, noting with apprehension how cold his flesh felt as it pressed against her own. Swallowing, she opened the door of his chambers and led him to the windowseat. Joachim sat mechanically, and he would not meet her eyes when she settled beside him.

"Well," Norgard began, "this isn't the greeting I was expecting, but life plays its games with us, so I can't say I'm surprised. Joachim, if you love me, look at me when I'm speaking to you. This is important."

Joachim's hands clenched at her words, but he raised his eyes and met her steady gaze with his own. Norgard reached out slowly and stroked his face with her fingertips. "That's more like you." she murmured.

"Norgard, I... So much has happened, I am unsure where I should begin and how much I should tell you. I am not the person you knew at the time I departed." He shook his head in frustration, as his eyes narrowed. "Not even the gods will soil their hands with my troubles." he spat bitterly.

It was at this moment that Norgard's suspicions were confirmed. She took his cold hands within her trembling ones, noting the polished appearance of his nails as she did so. "Love, I know what has happened. I know what you are, and what you have become, but you are still Joachim! You are still the man I love, nothing could change that! You weren't given a choice, and I know that if you had been, you would not have chosen this existence!"

He shook his head once more, this time in anger. "You cannot understand! Not even I can say if I would have chosen death over life. I have never lived as a human should!" He rose to his feet, pulling her upwards with him. "Look! I have no need for support! I can run, ride a horse, dance, cartwheel if I wanted to! My vision after dusk would shame the cats who prowl the granary at night! Norgard, _this_ _is life_. This is freedom." he whispered the last as though he were reassuring himself.

Norgard rested her face on his shoulder. "If you're so sure, why is it that you sound so doubtful? Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?" She ran her hands over his back, noting the tension present in every muscle. Fine shudders coursed through Joachim's frame as he exhaled shakily. "I'm terrified."

Norgard closed her eyes and tightened her hold as she swayed slowly from side to side, creating a gentle rocking motion which seemed to soothe Joachim's agitation. "What terrifies you, love?" she queried as she combed his hair with her fingers.

"Everything." he panted, "How bestial and savage can the vampire's nature become? Will I be discovered by humans and executed for what I am? Must I kill in order to live? _Where _will I live? What will I do, will I change, deep down inside? Will you still love me?"

With every question, his voice rose, the panic more evident. His last query burst from him in a harsh, terrified cry, and Norgard wept as she replied, "I will always love you. There's not a thing you could do to change that!" She pulled back and gathered up a corner of her apron, brushing away the wetness from her face as she smiled at him, her lips pulling up at the corners, her clear eyes a mixture of love and sorrow. She traced his cheekbone with her thumb. "Not a single tear shed." she murmured. "You have changed. Why have you become frightened of showing your tears?"

Joachim inhaled and stood silent before replying, "I have found that one's emotions and fears can be used against you. Come. Walk with me. I have much to tell you, and a long walk will help me to collect my thoughts. Besides, I have not seen you for what feels like ages." He tucked her arm beneath his own and together they moved through the abandoned corridors and rooms like a pair of restless and wandering souls as Joachim recounted the events of the past few days. He omitted nothing, speaking to Norgard about his fears and pains, as well as the almost guilty pleasure he experienced within his newly strengthened body. His eyes burned with a luminous light when he described his brief meeting with the mother he had never known, and though her warnings deeply troubled them both, Norgard was grateful that he had been allowed to experience what every living being should. "Mother is the whole world to a child." she whispered.

Joachim faltered only when describing his interactions with Walter, and the vampire's negligent attitude when he hunted. She remained quiet during his tale, interrupting only to better understand what had happened or to reassuringly squeeze his arm. Not once did she judge him, and it was for her unwavering support that he was grateful. He remembered Walter's words, and for a moment he felt ridiculous about his fears concerning love and Norgard's acceptance of his new condition.

For a long moment the couple stood silently, and Joachim took in his surroundings. "These rooms belonged to my mother." he told Norgard softly. "I can feel her presence here. It is almost as if she is watching over us." He drifted further into the room, pulling the sheets from the furniture as he did so. Clouds of dust wafted into the stale air like a flock of disturbed pigeons as he uncovered yet another fragment of Anna's life.

"Green!" Norgard whispered tearily, sensing the otherworldly presence of a sister witch. "Everywhere green! Green bedclothes, green chair slips and carpets. The tapestries and the mural in the wash room are of forests." She shook her head as she cleaned Anna's vanity table, carefully dusting the bottles of precious oils and powders. "Why have you never come here before now, Joachim?"

Joachim grasped onto the heavy drapes and pulled them back from the window, choking on twenty years worth of dust as it rained onto his upturned face. "I don't know. I never thought to do so. I was told to remain in my chambers, and for the most part, I obeyed."

"Oh, and when were you naughty?" Norgard teased him. He favored her with a smile which transformed his entire face, bestowing him with mischievous dimples, and she was at once reminded of her troublesome young brother. "Cook made the most delicious berry pastries, and I was an expert at filching them when I was younger. I was small, and though I was slow I was an expert at hiding. Those pastries never had a chance to cool before I burned my greedy tongue on them!"

He frowned as he fell into a chair, kicking up more dust. "Of course now they don't seem all that appealing anymore." Joachim smiled ruefully and shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. "Pastries or life, hmm?"

His disarmed manner disturbed Norgard, as did his almost casual acceptance of his unworldly appetites, but she attributed this to the victim's mechanism of coping. Joachim had been traumatized, she was certain, and this was the easiest way for him to overcome the recent horror. She hid her misgivings and fastidiously cleaned Anna's mirror, aware of Joachim's eyes following her movements. She straightened her apron, and when she looked up, he was standing close behind her.

Joachim moved Norgard's hands away from her apron lacings before he slowly untied the knot, allowing the cloth to slip to the floor. Her cap retraced the apron's path as he pulled loose the pins and unbound her hair, burying his face in its length. For a moment, Norgard remained still as a statue, though she felt anything but! Never before had she felt such a sense of rightness, as though this was all a part of a greater plan. Her snappy response to his undoing of what had taken nearly fifteen minutes to arrange died somewhere between her lungs and throat as she felt the soft pressure of his lips against her neck.

He shuddered as he felt the quick pace of her heart beneath his mouth, and he pressed a kiss against her soft skin before slowly moving away. As he did so, he caught a look at his reflection. His pupils were dilated, and a flush had crept over his pale face and neck. Joachim cleared his throat noisily and swept Norgard's cap and apron from their resting places on the carpet. She crouched next to him as he was picking up her hairpins, and her hand on his wrist stopped him from completing his self-assigned task. "How long do you think we have before we're missed?" she queried, her green eyes bright.

Realization struck him and it was a moment before he could respond. "Oh," he replied loftily, his hand quivering in her grasp, "I would have to say at least another hour, then again, they might want to forget about me completely today. Perhaps I should pay them that favor. And you?"

Norgard smiled fiercely. "Today's a rest day for me. I've nowhere else to be." Her smile faded, and a look of desperation creased her face. "Besides, I don't know how long I have before I'll lose you again." Joachim pulled her close, tucking her face against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort her and quell his own misgivings. "I think," he said hesitantly, "that since neither of us is sure, it would be best to treat each second as though it is all that remains."

Norgard nodded, reluctant to pull away from him. When he rose to his feet, he caught her in his arms, lifting her with ease. "Now," he said, as he turned his back upon Anna's chambers, "I shall carry you." Norgard twined her arms about his neck, aware that she was smiling like a smitten fool, and not caring in the least.

"So, my lady, where does your heart desire to be?" he said teasingly, eyebrows lifting in a mockery of the court dandies he had recently seen. She laughed in embarrassment. "The destination doesn't matter none to me! I could become accustomed to being carried though! Yes indeed."

"You might not have a destination in mind, but I could use a clean set of clothes. Now that I have everything off my chest, I could do with a bath and clothes that don't smell like horse."

"Joachim?"

"Yes?"

"You're more fastidious than a woman."

"I'm hurt."

"Joachim?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

She caught his face with one hand, turning until she could look directly into his eyes. "Me and you. We'll beat this somehow, I know we will." Her voice held conviction and strength, and her face was set in a stolid expression. "You should follow this vampire. You don't know nothing about how to survive like this, Joachim. And he may be an unholy bastard, but he's a canny one I'm sure. He'll teach you how to make it in this world. Much as I want to keep you here, it won't work! Soon enough, we'll all be growing old, all except you, and that's when they'll know, when you'll be in danger." She broke off suddenly, gasping for breath and control.

Joachim wanted to block out the truth contained within her words, but he could not deny what she said. "I'll see how long he will allow me to stay. Originally, we bargained for a time which would be long enough for me to make peace with my parting from you. Perhaps there is a chance that I may win a few months from Walter. I would love to stay until Christ's mass, but I am unsure how he will respond to any extension. Believe me Norgard. I do not want to leave you."

He sighed heavily as they arrived at his door, and Norgard reached out, twisting the brass handle as Joachim pushed the door open with his toe. He kicked it shut behind him and set Norgard carefully upon the bed. "Well, I'm all for a quick bath." he told her as he pulled a dressing robe from the wardrobe before hurrying into the washroom. He leaned against the closed door and attempted to sort through his tangled emotions.

_I don't want to leave. But, what other option do I have? I don't trust Walter enough to bring Norgard with me. Besides, she has a younger brother to care for and I certainly wouldn't trust Walter with a child! I don't know what happened to their parents, but she's all he has. I don't want to be responsible for taking that away. One day, I'll be able to sort this entire mess out, and then we'll see. I hope._

He bathed quickly, splashing himself with the cool water and scrubbing the dust from his hair. Joachim noticed that his body had ceased to perspire, yet another affect of Walter's 'gift'. He shrugged into the robe, knotting the ties at his waist before he padded into his room in search of a brush or comb. Norgard had slipped beneath the bedclothes and appeared to be dozing. He smiled as he brushed the hair back from her forehead and placed a tender kiss between her eyes. Joachim found the brush lying on the bedside table, golden strands were caught in the bristles. He chuckled as he ran the brush through his hair, working out the tangles.

There was a rustling as covers were pushed back, and the brush was snatched from his hand. Norgard pulled the brush through his hair efficiently, cursing as she did so. "I wish my hair were so easy to deal with! Look at that! I'm done with it already! I can't finish half of my head in that short a time."

Joachim turned to look over his shoulder, eyes widening as he did so. He turned away from her immediately, a blush suffusing his features. "Norgard!" he spluttered, at a loss for words. She laughed at his discomfort as she embraced his taut form. "It's alright. Look at me, Joachim. I want you to look at me. You seemed sure you wanted this earlier, in Anna's room."

"I must seem like a childish coward. Can you forgive me?" he asked her shakily. She reached around him, placing her palm over his heart.

"We'll treat each second like it's all we have left" she whispered before he pressed his lips to hers, bruising them with his desperate need for closeness. He twisted around to face her, the robe falling away from his shoulders like Atlas's burden as she pulled him into her embrace.

_Anna's spirit drifted through the corridors of the manor, and her sweet voice lifted in a heart-wrenching melody_, _pulling at the senses of all who passed her by. Spectral tears fell from the curve of her face like early morning dew. Whether they were tears of sorrow or of profound joy, not even she could say with certainty. _

_One life ends, another begins._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

"Out of the question." Walter's tone was flat, his eyes uncompromising. "This is not what was agreed to, and I will not make an exception."

It was dusk, the last of the sun's rays reaching through the branches of the trees resembled the bright streamers of celebrants at a parade, but the occurrences this eve were anything but merry. Joachim fumed, the pleasant mood he had brought with him dissipating like smoke as Walter turned his back to the younger vampire, putting an end to the discussion. The fading light reflected from his red hair, setting it ablaze. Joachim thought, rather unkindly, that his maker resembled Lucifer as he must have appeared before the Fall. Beautiful to look upon, but possessed of a corrupt heart and nature.

"And why not, Walter?" Joachim demanded. "Why should I not be allowed to spend the space of a few months with my lover?" He threw his arms up in disgust. "If I have eternity, why should a few months matter?"

Walter whirled about to face him once more, and his lips curled upwards in a sneer. "Oh, my ignorant friend. What will you do when the hunger seizes you in its remorseless grip? And it will." Walter clasped his gloved hands behind his back and paced around Joachim, so that the nobleman was forced to twist hither and yon to keep the agitated vampire in sight.

"Why will I not allow it? Because I know what it is like to be deprived of sustenance. The hunger is like a madness, Joachim. It affects the mind, clouds judgment and rationale. Loved ones become mere animals, prey for the beast within us. I will not allow you to remain here because you have proved incapable of caring for yourself. You rely entirely upon me for sustenance, like a babe at its mother's breast, _and I grow tired of it_!" Walter drew close to Joachim, crossing his arms before his chest in fatherly admonition. "Prove to me that you are capable of seeing to your own needs, and I will seriously consider granting your request."

Joachim became instantly suspicious. He shrugged his hair from his eyes as he considered Walter's offer. "What proof do you require?"

Walter spread his hands and smiled. "Why, show me that you are capable of seeing the hunt through to the end." His smile faded and a dangerous light smoldered within his eyes. "Prove to me that you are capable of killing, Joachim. Be true to your nature."

"How do you suppose," Joachim spat from between clenched teeth, "that I managed to feed myself today?"

Walter stared at his charge for a moment before tossing his head back and laughing with genuine humor. "By the ancestors! Joachim! This is nearly too embarrassing! My boy, the blood of chickens will not sustain you forever!" He sobered, "Do you recall that sensation you felt on the night of your transition? The unquenchable thirst?" Joachim nodded warily. "That is what you will feel if you allow your diet to consist solely of the blood of animals. And it will happen quickly, within two weeks time. You wouldn't want to turn on your pretty maid in a fit of hunger, would you?"

"Of course not!" Joachim shuddered. "So. It is completely necessary to consume the blood of humans?" Walter lifted his eyebrows and blinked, not deigning to answer the obvious question. Joachim sighed in exasperation. "The thought of it sickens me. Is there no way to take their blood without killing them?"

"Do you wish to create more of our kind? No. You must drain them, and if you cannot then you must kill them to prevent the creation of another vampire."

Joachim shook his head, refusing to admit defeat. "But if I were to perhaps open a vein and drain what I needed into a vessel of some kind, no one need die."

Walter had stooped over as Joachim pondered aloud, and he straightened, throwing a clump of grass and dirt at Joachim's head. The nobleman cursed as it connected with his temple, and he glared hatefully at his sire.

Walter returned his stare. "Oh, and I'm sure that the denizens of this lovely hamlet would offer up their blood willingly, never mind that you are an unholy predator who needs to be hunted down. I am certain they will be glad to aid you." Walter clasped his hands and fawned mockingly as Joachim brushed the dust from his hair and clothes. He enjoyed their verbal sparring. It was a match he was certain he would win.

"But could they not be enthralled? You nearly caused me to forget your assault! For a long while I was certain it was naught but a fever dream."

"And you are mature enough in our ways to enthrall humans, yes?" Walter snorted. "What you mean is that I am capable of the thrall, and would I be so kind as to clean up all of your messes since killing makes you nauseous? No, I will not. You could become capable of that particular trick, but it will not come easy, and I would need to instruct you in its execution. Which I cannot do, since you want to stay here, and I need to return home." Walter scraped soil from beneath his nails before he absently began chewing upon them, moving away from Joachim as he did so. "Your accompanying me is the only logical solution. I'm tired of arguing with you, Joachim. You are behaving like a stupid child. Prove that you can care for yourself and keep your condition a secret, and I will allow you to remain here for as long as is possible. If the hunger seizes you, I shall wait until you have sated your thirst upon your loved ones before I drag you after me. Peacefully or not." Walter turned one last time to look at Joachim. "And if you incite the blood lust of a crowd of enraged peasants you are entirely on your own." He smiled wickedly, flashing his opalescent fangs as his form dissipated into mist and dispersed on the night winds.

Joachim cursed and raked his fingers through his wind tousled hair, kicking at the scrub as he did so. He turned on his heel and set off for home at a brisk pace, his mind laboring frantically for a solution, but incapable of finding one. He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly, wrapping his arms around his chest miserably as he retraced the path home through the trees.

_I'm sorry Norgard. I've muddled everything yet again._

Norgard was waiting for his return, and she frowned when he closed the door and leaned against it wearily. "Well. What did the Devil's Right Hand have to say?"

Joachim's eyes flicked upwards, and he grinned briefly. "Somehow, I have the notion that neither of you would get along very well." He spoke briefly, passing on to her the information he had obtained from Walter.

"And you believe him?" She queried, one eyebrow raised in speculation

Joachim exhaled and held his arms out briefly before dropping them to his sides once more. "I'm not exactly eager to test the truth of the matter." He shuddered and looked at her askance. She was chewing on a length of her hair, and her forehead was creased in concentration. He massaged his scalp wearily and took a seat before the fireplace. The flames rose and fell in a bright, intricate dance. Joachim stared at the fire, transfixed by the simple wonder and beauty within such an unobtrusive place.

"Norgard." Joachim began. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Well, several things, and..."

"Do you have a cup?" The question was so unexpected that Joachim could only stare at her for a moment.

"Pardon?"

She turned to look at him as she pulled a paring knife from her apron. "A cup, man! And hurry before I lose my nerve!"

Norgard had eaten supper in his absence, and the tray and dishes were still sitting on the table. He swiped up the unused goblet, noting with amusement that she must have drunk directly from the milk jug. The wine was untouched, however, and he briefly wondered why, but Norgard's impatient growl interrupted his thoughts.

"You aren't about to do what I _think_, are you?" Joachim yelped, a bare second before she drew the blade swiftly across a vein in her wrist. Her face paled considerably, but she gamely massaged her arm, ceasing only when the goblet was filled. She spoke the entire time, more to distract herself than anything else. "I told you we'd find some way to beat this. It's just one more of life's hills, and there's always a means of climbing a hill. Besides, " she laughed, "it's better this way. Don't need you rampaging and killing folk, do we?"

"This situation feels more like a mountain than a hill, Norgard." Joachim sighed as she pressed the goblet's stem into his palm, wrapping his fingers about it. The sight of its contents made his stomach growl and flooded his veins with heat. He swallowed and gave her a smile which was intended to comfort the both of them. It failed. He brought the goblet's rim to his lips and tossed back its contents quickly, ashamed that she had to witness this sacrilegious act. He set the goblet aside and cleared his throat.

"Norgard. While I commend and love you for your courage, I cannot live by taking from you. It wouldn't be fitting, and it isn't fair to you." He raised a hand to forestall her response. "Please listen to me. This is an uncomfortable subject, so I won't speak about it again. As far as I am concerned, the base nature of the vampire is foul and unholy." Joachim sighed and seemed to be searching for the right words. "Even though I suppose it's possible for me to live by sustaining myself with what you offer, I'm, I cannot describe it. It makes me feel as though I'm _sullying_ you!" He was pleading with her now, attempting to reach her, to make her understand. "You're my lover, Norgard, not my food."

Norgard stuffed her fist into her mouth, and for a moment Joachim feared that he had caused her pain. His frustration was palpable when her face turned red with suppressed laughter. "Food? I'm glad I'm not food to you!" She snorted, and then raised her hands in a placating gesture as Joachim silently fumed. "Oh, Joachim! I understand! It's just, well, words don't fit these situations very well. Food indeed!"

"Before you try to change the subject _again_, I have a few things I want to discuss with you."

"Won't you be finishing up with why I'm not food?" She cackled.

Joachim sniffed. "No. That was your only chance to hear it, but you didn't want to listen. Besides, this whole situation is far too serious for idle jests. We need to find a solution, or I might be gone before the next week is out!"

She sobered immediately. "I know." she sighed, eyes downcast. She held both hands before her, fingers spread in a gesture indicative of confusion. She smiled wryly. "I've always relied on laughter to see me through the bad times, because if I lose sight of those times which were joyful I lose myself too."

Joachim reflected on her words and tried to reach deeper, to more fully understand his lover. _She is not accustomed to showing either grief or weakness. That doesn't mean she is never troubled by them. _

His gaze settled on her. "I understand." he said simply. "But you can't be responsible for everything. I know that at this moment I've been placed on that lengthy list but, Norgard, you cannot be caretaker to everyone."

He smiled warmly, hoping to dull the seriousness of his remark, and Norgard dropped her eyes, clenching and unclenching her callused fingers. "I've cared well enough for myself and my brother. I think I'm capable of keeping an eye on you."

Joachim shook his head and reached out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. "I never said that you weren't capable of that. What I'm trying to explain is that you can't blame yourself if this whole scenario should take a turn for the worse. These events are out of your sphere of influence." He exhaled in frustration. "Just because the gods and the fates have placed my destiny in my lap doesn't mean my path will be any easier. If anything, it will be more difficult!" He paused once more, trying to make her understand. "Whatever aid you give me is deeply appreciated, but you shouldn't feel guilty if this doesn't work out the way we hope it will. I will have to find my own way if that should happen."

Norgard watched him sorrowfully. "And what if you can't find that path on your own?"

Joachim's brow set stubbornly. "Then," he said with conviction, "I will simply have to make my own."

_"And just look at where it landed you!" I curse my reflection. "You've done well, haven't you?" My laughter is nothing more than a weak splutter which tapers off into a heavy silence. I detest waking. I spend more and more time in the reverie, the dreamlike state of a vampire who sleeps at night. I haven't experienced a true sleep in . . . how long have I been here? _

_And it's all your doing, Walter! Give me but one day to rest. One cycle of the sun to slip into death's embrace and forget that to live is to experience Hell. _

_Walter and his games. I rub my eyes in irritation and snarl. I don't want to dream anymore. I remember what happened not soon after I spoke those words. I remember when my life began to slip. I don't want to remember anymore._

_And to think, we were so happy. Yes, happy! It was of little consequence that the circumstances were not in our favor. We were young and so in love that we could not focus overlong on anything but each other._

_I look down at my hands, spreading out my fingers. Everything these hands touch falls into ruin. My mother died for me. My father, though I harbored no love for him, only pity and, in the end, only hatred. My lover. Gods, my love, waiting still. And how many innocents?_

_Oh, but there is no such thing as an innocent. We all have our faults, our petty crimes and hatreds. Still, a child is innocent, always. I cannot forget that woman in the hamlet on the day I arrived home. I understand what she wanted. She yearned for a miracle, but I had none to give. She wished for hope, but I had wasted it all on myself, and had none left for her. It still pains me. To lose a child. One would do anything to prevent it. Even bargain with the Devil. Why am I still dwelling on this? _

_ I strike myself sharply on the head and grimace. Best not to think about it, it isn't as though it can be remedied now. I wish . . . for many things. Ending this tragedy is one of them. _

_I suppose I'll have to go on with it though. I stretch my legs out and twist my stiffened ankles, listening to the faint sound of bone popping as it shifts. I close my eyes and try to remember without feeling pain._

_Maybe I didn't understand her then when she spoke of laughter and of self. I understand now. Now that my most joyful memories bring only sorrow. I've lost my laughter, and I've lost my self._

_A trickle of awareness slides over my skin, and I rise, turning to face the door. One by one the wards slip away, and the door swings inwards slowly, rusty hinges creaking in protest at being awakened after so long a slumber. _

_I feel power slip over me, restraining my gifts. I will a sword to rise, to shake, anything. The metal remains still, its only movement the flicker of moonlight as a cloud drifts somewhere overhead. I am simply too weak and malnourished to bother. I don't even possess the blood lust, for I am long past the starvation point. My body is focused only on retaining what it has, stretching out what little time remains. If ever I should starve completely, then I pray Walter severs my head from my shoulders, or tosses me out for some peasant to finish the job. A drained vampire lies fully aware of its pain, suffering greatly but unable to move until it is either nourished with blood or beheaded. At the moment, I cannot say which is more pleasant._

_I know who it is before I see him, and with a sigh that sounds exhausted even to me I fall back to the ground._ _Why bother standing or paying him respects? I don't have the energy to bother, even if he did deserve it. He will never merit respect, certainly not from me._

_"Joachim? Are you awake?" I roll my eyes as he calls out. A few seconds later the toe of a boot prods my side. So now I am a dog? I decide to have a bit of sport. What else can he do to me? Beat me? Kill me? Please do. Death would be something._

_"Oh, it's you, is it?" I drawl in the most convincing monotone I can muster._

_"Joachim. Ever the insolent pup. You should know to stand in the presence of your betters." The prodding becomes sharper, and I feel the echo of pain as my ribs creak. I roll over so that I can look up at him and see the irritation written on his face. _

_" Hello Walter. My. You look the same as the last time I set eyes on you."_

_"And you look like hell. Get up."_

_Your attire, "I wheeze, "is particularly ridiculous tonight. Where under the stars did you find such a stupid garment?" He has bedecked himself entirely in red. It would not be so gaudy if he were garbed in a tunic or robe, but for some unfathomable reason Walter has decided on plate mail. "Are you masquerading, Walter? What are you playing at? Ah! Perhaps an unholy knight? Yes, the vampire knight! Well, at least you were original enough to avoid donning black armor. That theme is sorely overdone." _

_Walter cannot ignore this stab at his vanity. With a muffled curse he snatches me up by my neck, lifting me until his face is inches from mine. Anger suffuses his features. "I am beginning to wonder why I bother to pay you any visits at all." He grates. _

_I smile blankly. "Why, I've no idea. We haven't gotten along for ages. Can it be that you wish to shake my hand and free me? No, that doesn't sound like you at all. Why are you here, anyway?" He says nothing, content to observe as I struggle to breathe. He could snap my neck at any moment, and he is well aware of it. The silence makes my skin crawl. To stave off the discomfort I rattle on._

_I smile endearingly. "I'm sorry to be such a poor host. I would offer you a rat, but they seem to be avoiding me lately." I pat his cheek and he strikes my face with the back of one gloved fist. Now I can feel the pain. At least it's something._

_I decide to end the game. "What do you want, Walter? Have you come to laugh at me? Torment me? Do you have a twisted new game you wish to play?" I snarl at him, baring my teeth in a crazed grimace. He regards me silently for a brief moment before dropping me to the floor and turning on his heel. This is all a part of the game. He'll tell me when he's ready, but he wants me to wait in suspense first. Wants me to hope that he might be merciful and free me. I don't believe that for a moment. _

_Walter stops for a moment, hands weaving gracefully before his chest as he readies the wards. He smiles at me over his shoulder and finishes his preparations. As he strides confidently through the archway, the carcass of a rat bounces from the back of his head and becomes entangled in his curls. Walter turns to glare at me, his mouth open in surprise as he fumbles to remove the rotting bits and pieces from his hair. Laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep within me. A place I had forgotten existed._

_I give him a real smile this time. It has been quite a while since I was truly amused. The door slams shut with chilling finality, though I take some comfort in the fact that my laughter harried him on his way out. He'll be back, I reassure myself as I settle in for another span of solitude. He'll be back for more punishment, he can't keep himself from meddling with lives or emotions. _

_I find myself grinning eagerly. I love to irritate the one I despise, but more than that, it feels good to have a purpose which excludes killing. My true goal feels so unattainable at this moment. Irritating Walter is a welcome diversion, though he deserves much worse. Why not make his life a living Hell before I end it? The thought makes me chuckle. _

_Perhaps I have not lost my self after all._


End file.
